


The Marauders' Pensieve

by Ink_and_Quill_Soul



Series: The Resurgence of The House of Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And "Wix kind" because I'm a feminist, And a peppering of random fandom mentions, But the writer took some literary liberties too, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Contains excerpts from the books, Enjoy!, F/M, First Wix War, Fix-It, Kept as close to cannon as possible, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Muggle and Magical Wold Exploration, Oh- Desi Potters and Welsh Lupins, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Prank Wars, Rise of Voldemort, greater good, life at hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_and_Quill_Soul/pseuds/Ink_and_Quill_Soul
Summary: Something a post-triwix tournament, kept-in-the-dark Harry never expected to at his doorstep on a perfectly normal morning at Privet Drive - was Sirius, and a newly resurged family of Potters.Whisked away to the previously unknown ancestral home, Harry soon finds himself with his family pensieve- about to learn the story before his story.It all began with a couple of dungbombs, a handful of brave choices, after-parties and rock music, a couple of heartbreaks, a Prank War that McGonagall herself might have participated, a yelled FINE PUT OUT THE FIRE POTTER, a war, a coven and magick forgotten............................ and ended with a Halloween night.This is the story of the Marauders &co---- of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Mr&Mrs. Prongs....of love, pranks and mischiefs galore.
Relationships: (& Many others), ....eventually - Relationship, Charlus Potter/Dorea Black Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Euphemia Potter/Fleamont Potter, Henry Evans/Hyacinth Evans, Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Orion Black/Walburga Black, Remus Lupin/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon
Series: The Resurgence of The House of Potter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035426
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. A Surprise Visit

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic written for non-profit reasons (aka. my *heartbreak* at Marauders' fate), and all characters and world setting belongs to the one and only JKR.  
> This is my first fic, and unBeta'd. So there might be a couple of mistakes, and cringe-worthy sentence structures. I'm only learning the nuances of writing as I go. So I hope you'll bear with me. (Feel free to point out points of improvement!<3)
> 
> So, my fellow Marauder fans, buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy the ride!  
> 
> 
> (Special thanks to ash_carpediem for her constant support. You are a dear!<3)
> 
> ~~~~ Much love!!!

Harry watched the magic swirling around the maple-wood pensieve, his stomach fluttering with a nervous anticipation. He was still not entirely sure if he was having a particularly outlandish concussion-induced dream, for he _had_ hit his head pretty hard on the window-sill when someone apparated this morning. He was sure it was the sound of apparition. And then the Dursleys grounded _him_ for "creating a racket".

 _This morning!_ Harry thought incredulously.

How had an insignificant, perfectly normal (as in his continuing exclusion from getting any insightful news on what's happening in the Wix world since Voldemort's Return- making him desperate enough to eavesdrop on _muggle news_ to get any clues) hot day at Privet Drive... turn to _this?_

* * *

Something Harry never expected to find on answering the door of No. 4, Privet Drive that morning- was a grinning Padfoot at the threshold, with a portkey in his mouth.

The portkey had landed them with a lurch on a lonely country road, infront of a high stone compound wall.

On landing, Padfoot instantaneously morphed back into Sirius, and caught him as he overbalanced and nearly fell.

"Oh cub." Sirius murmured as he pulled him into a engulfing bear hug- holding him tightly as if to physically shield him from all that's out there that could hurt him.

And Harry had hugged his godfather back equally fiercely- eyes burning at how much he had missed Sirius- and held on to him, luxuriating in all the comforting warmth in that hug. It's been a month since he held on to someone.

After a few long moments Sirius gently eased back, holding his bony shoulders at arm's length and surveyed him with concerned grey eyes.

Harry took the moment to look over his godfather as well- and was surprised to see how well he looked in comparison to the last time he saw him.

Sirius was wearing a cool leather motor jacket with metal studs on shoulders, dark jeans and combat boots. His wand was in a holdster at his hip. Harry blinked. That was a definite improvement over the dirty rags he had been wearing when he staked out in Hogsmaede's streets to help assist him with the Triwix tasks.

Harry felt a surge of affection again at how much his godfather staked his own life for him.

So he was all the more glad to see that Sirius had filled out in the one month he had been away- no longer pale and gaunt fugitive he had been earlier- and had become a more healthy and classy wizard, sporting a light tan, the sparkle back in his mercurial eyes.

But Sirius' eyes only darkened as he finished his survey of him- and Harry ducked his head, knowing what Sirius saw to put him in a surly mood. He knew there was baggy dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep, and Dudley's old clothes were hanging off him more lossely these days than the usual.

Harry rubbed a hand at the back of his warm neck, "Listen, Sirius, it wasn't that bad, really. They fed me enough and-"

"Apparently not enough." Sirius cut in, a bit of Padfoot's growl slipping into his voice to give his warm voice an edge.

"It was- it was all right, really." Harry insisted, raising his eyes to assure Sirius' worried ones.

After all, it wasn't malnourishment that put him in this stage. It was-

Harry cut off that line of thoughts. 

"Sirius," he called, glancing around in search of something else to focus on, ...and frowned at the unfamiliar landscape.

He looked around the empty country road- at the row of yew hedges that lined the stonewall beside which they stood, and across them was a scenic grassland with a lone charming house by a pond, partially shrouded by a thicket of trees- the only backdrop to sunlit rolling hills in the distance.

"Er, Sirius? Where are we?...Not that I'm ungrateful to you for bursting me out of Dursley's or anything, but I thought I had to stay at Privet Drive all summer for mum's protection to work?"

Sirius smiled, the dark shadows lifting from his eyes for a moment.

"For Lily's blood protection to work, Harry." he corrected. "As long as you stay with your family- on whose veins your's and your mother's magic flows- you will be protected."

Harry frowned. "Then why-"

"Because the fucking Dursleys were not the family Lily had." Sirius stated with vehemence, making Harry stare in surprise.

"Not the one that mattered." Sirius asserted, holding him by shoulders and leaning down to meet his eyes- "She had became a Potter- by love, by name and by wedding bond. Hence you are protected by the Potter's family magic -which includes Lily's...... And you should've been here in the absence of a certain meddling wizard." Sirius muttered angrily as if to himself, drawing an agitated hand through his shoulder-length sleek hair.

Sirius continued angrily, eyes focused on something behind Harry, "You would've been much safer, much looked after and cared for here than at those stupid muggles'.... Fucking Dumbledore! When I meet that manipulative old coot again-"

"Sirius!" Harry gasped at the insult to his esteemed Headmaster. "You are not making any sense! Why are you insulting Professor Dumbledore? And where exactly is here, Sirius? What is going on?" Harry questioned, feeling lost.

Sirius stared at him, momentarily startled by his heated tone perhaps, then dropped the hand worrying his hair.

He took a deep breath, then leaned down to grasp Harry's shoulder- an earnest look in his aristocratic face.

"Harry," Sirius started with a gentleness, that made Harry instantaneously wary. It was usually the tone a Teacher, or Hermione, or Dumbledore took when they were about to drop a bombshell on him.

Like:

"Harry, Dursleys are trying hard to take care of you, so make it easier on them, yeah?"

or

"Harry, there was no voice/ Harry, no one screamed."

or

"You did see your father last night, Harry... you found him within yourself."

Sirius said gently, "All is not what it appeared to be, cub. I will tell you everything in a mo, once we're safely inside. But regarding the second part of your inquiry- we are near Bretby, Derbyshire." Sirius explained gently, as if to soften some blow (-which was totally lost on him), "And that-" Sirius said turning him dramatically around to face large wrought-iron gates that had silently materialised behind him and now stood swung open,

"-is the Potter's Hall."

Harry gaped at the long cobbled drive lined by lavenders and boxwood hedges, canopied by arching oaks on either side and cutting through a sprawling green lawn- which lead to a breathtaking sunlit English country house at distance.

"- Your ancestral home. The home of the Peverells who became Potters." Sirius finished proudly.

Harry blinked multiple times at the house, to dispel the possible concussion-induced dream.

Nope. Still there.

"Er, so" Harry paused, and rubbed at his eyes just to make sure, and resumed to gape at the beautiful house which was _still_ there.

Even the newly materialized iron plaque on the wall beside him bearing the house name in cursives confirmed it.

Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "So, er, I- I have a house...?"

Sirius barked a laugh.

"Well not just a house, Harry," Sirius grinned, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders and drawing him inside the compound.

With surprise Harry sensed the hum of magical wards as he passed through the gates.

It felt like a cozy warmth blanketing him, resonating with his core- just like how it felt holding his wand for the first time. He never knew one could _sense_ wards.

Sirius continued talking as they ambled down the sweeping drive under the shade of oak trees, happiness brightening his voice, "You have a whole family waiting for you inside."

Harry came to an abrupt stop.

"A whole- _WHAT!?"_

"Not a joke, Harry. No." Sirius said earnestly, holding his shoulders and grey eyes leveling with his- looking frighteningly honest. "Don't you trust me, cub? Do you trust me to protect you, to value your life even above mine?"

Harry's mind was whirring- head full of white noise of a million questions -but he nodded without hesitation at Sirius' question. _That_ , he knew, will always test true, time and time again.

Sirius face broke into a relieved smile, eyes warm. "Then let's just get home, cub, and I promise we will explain it all to you."

But Harry shook his head at that, holding his ground. Tendrils of anger were swiftly replacing the white noise of a thousand questions milling in his head.

"Why hadn't I known that I had a family remaining?" he asked hollowly. "Why didn't anybody tell me? Why...why didn't _you_ tell me?" Harry asked accusingly. "Did they abandon me at Dursleys? Is _that_ why?"

Sirius staggered back as if Harry dealt him a physical blow. "NO Harry!" he exclaimed, looking horrified.

 _"No."_ Sirius repeated at gentler tone at Harry's affronted look.

"They would never, ever do that to you had they known. This-" Sirius waved a hand as if to encompass all the universe, "-this is all one big clusterfuck, cub. And not our fault. It's- well, a tad complicated to explain..... A certain git who thought he knew the best, obliviated our family."

Harry frowned at that uncomprehendingly. 

But Sirius was rambling on before Harry could voice his questions.

"Well, perhaps not technically an obliviation curse, but I guess for all the intent and purpose it _could be_ called that. Yeah, that is like the gist of it and... " Sirius halted at Harry's lost and bewildered look. "Bugger... I'm making an utter mess of this, am I not?" He cursed with his shoulders slumping, before turning to gaze forlornly at the house in distance.

"I should've prepared that speech as Liz told me to, instead of jumping straight into the rescue mission.'" Sirius muttered under breath to himself in annoyance, leaving Harry all the more confused.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently, hands crossed and eyebrows knitted in a glare that had Sirius blinking at him for a moment when he turned back around- as if he was seeing someone else right then. Then Sirius shook his head dispel it (an act that reminded Harry acutely of Padfoot shaking off his wet coat), and focused back on him, grey eyes softening.

"Look Harry, let me start at the beginning, or rather the recent beginning, for it's a _very_ long and twisted clustrefuck of a story- " Sirius quickly cut off his rambling as Harry's eyes narrowed further. "I never told you where I was this past month, right?"

Harry granted a careful nod.

"It was a security precaution. .....No, I better start even before that.... Cub, after bursting out of Azkaban, the first thing I did was check up on you, before I hunted down that rat. Remember meeting me at the playground in Little Whinging?"

Harry raised a mildly amused eyebrow at that. "You mean meeting a huge scary black dog that I thought was gonna maul me to death? I might remeber that, yes." 

Sirius winced. "On retrospection, I guess I might have botched up that visit a little too." Sirius mumbled with a pout. "But in my defence, I had just escaped that hell-hole-which-shall-not-be-named, and wasn't thinking straight. But back to what I was saying- after finding you there, I set off in search of our family. My adopted family that is- of Potters, the family of your father's uncle, who was married to my great aunt- Dorea Black."

Harry frowned- taking in the new set of characters, and the unfamiliar part of the known story.

Sirius nodded. "Like you, I was just as angry as to why you weren't placed in their protection; and honestly- hurt, by why they never showed up for me when I was wrongly arrested. I didn't atleast get a chance to explain to them what happened and correct the misunderstanding. I couldn't believe they'd think I would - that I _could_ do such a thing to -to James. Now I know they wouldn't have. They would've gotten me a fair trial. Hell, any trial at all, really." Sirius barked an unamused laugh, "And I would not have gotten falsely imprisoned in that hell hole for twelve years... when I could've been looking after you."

Sirius had turned his face away by the end of his admission- as if he could hide the shadows tinting his eyes and voice from him.

Harry's heart went out to his godfather- at the sheer amount of suffering he was unjustly put through.

Sirius took a moment before continuing, hands buried deep in his jeans pockets, his posture studied cool, "My only consolation in that hell hole was that- even if they'd somehow misunderstood me, atleast you were in the safety of their care." Sirius said, then slowly shook his head,

"Imagine my surprise then, when I learnt from a drunk wizard in a hole-in-the-wall pub at Knockturn- that you were holed away somewhere outside the wizarding world;... and with no one seeming to remember the rest of the Potters."

Harry's frown deepened at that. _Surely he would have heard from someone, or read somewhere about_ _other Potters_...

Harry's mind flashbacked to his first year in Hogwarts ...to the people he saw in the Mirror of Erised...

"I feared the worst initially," Sirius continued, "-that I had lost them too in the war;.....but it took me a good part of that year to covertly piece together that there was no records of death or any news pertaining to them at all in any records. ...It was like the whole family was erased from existence."

Harry froze- catching scent of something odd.

Sirius nodded to him in agreement, eyes shining. "I also came to the conclusion that some foul play was afoot. It sounded like someone had performed a mass obliviation on them. Only I wasn't sure who was behind it, the how, or the why. And only after I escaped on Buckbeak with yours and Prongs' help, did I remember the damn prophecy James told me before he went under Fidelius.... I had forgotten all about it in the aftermath of everything that happened because of it, you see."

 _Wait, what prophecy?_ \- Harry wanted to ask, but Sirius was on a roll-

"That, and seeing how Dumbledore had practically isolated you from the wix world at Dursleys' of all the people- I began connecting the dots..." Sirius's eyes flashed angrily, "...and saw that it only left one possible culprit. _Dumbledore."_

Harry broke in to his spirited tirade, "Wait, what do you mean "culprit"? And what prophecy-"

But Sirius raised his hand, palm up- a request to pause, and said in a gentle voice "That, _all that_ is a matter of a longer talk with our family, cub. And only once you are well-fed and rested. No compromises." Sirius said definitely at Harry's mutinous look, but immediately relented a little -like he couldn't bring himself to say no to anything he asked for-

"I promise we will discuss it all with you. You won't be kept in the dark again, Harry. _That's_ a Marauders' vow." Sirius vowed to him, his eyes solemn.

Harry let out a measured breath, then half-reluctantly waved a gesture to continue.

"Thank you, cub. Now as I was saying- I suspected the old twinkle-eyes. And since no one here remembered the Potters, with Buckbeak I set off to find my sole family outside of Britain- to France. I reunited with my late uncle Alphard's husband Tony- I'll tell you all about who's who in detail later, but Uncle Alphard was my maternal uncle and the only sane Black of his generation. Tony had gone into recluse in France after uncle's death. And he remembered. ...It was great to have each other back in our lives again." Sirius smiled sadly.

"It gave us both a purpose, a mission in life... We worked through theory after theory about mass obliviations- but failed to find any residue of any recent wide-ranged use of Swooping Evil venom or any other evidence of known methods of mass-obliviations in the recent years. But we knew one had occurred nevertheless. That led us to combing through the lesser known means of obliviation. We were squirreling away information gained from greasing hands of experts (the legal and shady ones) on the field, while I was also stuck globe-trotting to evade the Ministry. We investigated into Dumbledore for months without getting any leads... until your Triwix task with dragons. Then I got a little epiphany." Sirius paused with a wry smile.

"Your grandfather's words came floating back to me- Monty telling us how dragons wiped away memory of the location of their nests and hordes from human minds that discovered them- to protect the hatchlings or their treasures. It was one of the most powerful feat of benign protective magic found in nature ...about how it was remarkable that dragon's blood was found to have obliviating properties as well. That was one of the twelve fascinating uses of dragon's blood that Dumbledore discovered.

 _Blood magic._ Quite not what we expected from the leader of the Light, who shook his head with a granfatherly disapproval on anything even remotely _grey_. The hypocrite." Sirius spat.

"And so we began our research deep into archaic magic rituals involving dragon blood and blood magic, and finally had a breakthrough just a couple of months back in a Romanian text... about a near obsolete milder version of the _Damnatio Memoriae_ ritual."

A sudden sharp wind cut through their peaceful surroundings at the utterance of those words, and they shuddered at the unexpected bone-chilliness of the wind.

" _Never_ repeat that ritual's name to anyone, Harry." Sirius murmured gravely. "It's magic at its foulest... at its _most damning_. It's an insult to the very fabric of natural magic... And this ritual- this _milder_ version, it only enabled erasing memory from the living, without actually damning the subject's lives. A very subjective opinion that, if you ask me. Here, the subjects will forget who they are and their ancestry, just as everyone else will forget about them. Stripped away from their own identity and families- tell me how that can be any less damning?"

Sirius shook his head, eyes dark and haunted, before focusing back on Harry with a bitter quirk of his lips,

"I told you I ran away from my family, didn't I. And a major reason for that was my mother dearest -Walburga. She was as fanatical a blood-purist as they came, and a _wonder_ to live with. You should hear her howlers, a right joy at parties she was. The old cow would've had a field day had she ever come across that ritual when she was alive."

Harry saw the darkness pooled in Sirius' eyes, and decided right away that he didn't like Sirius' mum an inch.

Sirius shook his head clear. "On finding the ritual, the rest was easy. And I meant that word _relatively._ We had to painfully recreate the anti-ritual, which included finding near impossible ingredients and meeting triple cursed sets of conditions... But for the ritual to be undone, first we had to locate our family.

That too, became easy once we discovered an old tracking-spell using familial blood.

We used my blood for the process- to locate my cousins, the Potters, who also had Black's blood in their veins.

Then we evaded Dumbledore's old security spells to reach them, undid the ritual, fortified the wards..." Sirius paused for breath, "All of which, by Eternal Magick's grace, we somehow managed to accomplish in a matter of two months. We broke the curse last week." Sirius stopped with a proud smirk, looking slightly parched after the long talk, but silver eyes glinting proudly. 

Harry could only blink at him, thrown off by the deluge of shocking information he had just received. 

"So, here we are." Siriu said with a glourishing wave to their surroundings. "I updated our family on all that had happened and is happening. Our family took the time to mourn everyone they didn't know they had lost -James, -" Sirius paused at the name, and Harry lowered his eyes as well- unable to watch the heartbreak that still was plain on Sirius' face after all this time, "-Lily... Uncle Alphard, and a few other family and friends- all casualities of the damn war. It took away so many from us....

Then I prevented my cousin from rushing to murder the old coot thrice in just the week. I know! _Me_. But don't hold me to such high standards Harry, I plan to hex the old goat to Pluto first." Sirius said soberly. 

Harry shook his head slowly, raking a hand through his hair- not entirely sure whether Sirius was joking or not. Probably not.

The whole story- it was not just mind-boggling...it sounded a tad too unbelievable.

A crazy inner voice -which sounded disturbingly like Mione's- asked him how much crazier it was on a scale from ' _chatting with a boa at zoo_ ' to ' _thwarting Voldemort another fricking time_ ' ?

'Hmmm... maybe a 7?' Harry mused, then looked from Sirius to the sunlit house- 'No, definitely a 9.'

Harry knew it was Sirius standing infront of him... _but._

"Padfoot... Where did we meet last time?"

Sirius huffed a small laugh, grey eyes glittering with humour.

"Did it sound _that_ far-fetched to you, cub? But alright, fair. Hmm, the last time we met- that was definitely at the infirmary, in the grounds of Hogwarts, in the presence of our beloved old coot and _another_ ginger trying to bludgeon me to death, on the night a certain nose-less bastard -who, let me tell you- has absolutely no sense of _remaining dead_ for the peace of the general populace, decided to emerge from his hibernation."

Harry choked on a laugh, eyes widening a touch hysterically.

This was... _real_.

Sirius' eyes were dancing with mirth.

"Bravo on the identity check. Moony would be so proud of you as your ex-defense Professor (cant believe that prat became a _Professor_ , but he was still a better choice than _Snivellus); n_ ot to mention our MadEye- I mean the real one, for keeping-"

Harry read the mischievous sparkle in his godfather's eyes a second too late-

"- _CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"_ Sirius shouted, then broke down laughing when Harry shot a foot backwards in reflex, cursing.

"Did you have to?" Harry whined, rubbing his ears gingerly.

"Oh for old times' sake, cub." Sirius chuckled, wiping his eyes, and no doubt remembering his father at the moment. "But promise me cub, that from now on you will do the security check _before_ you let anyone into your grounds the next time?"

Harry shrugged lazily, internally glad that Sirius was back to his jolly, teasing self- "How many Grims do turn up at your doorstep with a portkey? Besides, no dark wizard can get within a mile-radius of Dursleys'. Dumbledore told me."

"Perhaps." Sirius acceded, "But do take everything that comes out of that man's mouth with a pinch of salt now onwards, alright?" At Harry's troubled nod, he continued, "But what if it was some death-eater sympathizer who came to kidnap you?" Sirius arched a brow.

Harry considered that. "...Fair point. I will take more care next time." he assured.

Sirius nodded, "A wise decision; but you won't be put in another dangerous situation if I can help it... I will kill anyone who tries to lay another finger on you, cub." Sirius growled darkly, his usually dancing eyes now a dangerous stormy grey- the Grim's eyes shining through. 

Harry smiled softly at that, unable to reply as his throat had closed up at the display of protectiveness over him. ...It was not something he was used to.

Sirius snapped out of his dark mood, and ruffled his hair gruffly. "And I wasn't talking about the Dursleys' when I said your grounds. I meant here, at Potter's Hall- our home." Sirius paused, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "Er, that is if you are still interested in wanting to come live with me? I know you said yes then, but it was under rather extenuating and stressful circumstances and-"

Sirius' ramble was cut off this time by Harry physically launching himself into his arms in a bone-crushing hug.

"You mean it? Promise?" Harry asked in a choked voice, voice muffled against the leather coat.

Sirius' face lit up like the sun, and he hugged his child close to his heart. "With all my heart, cub." He murmured, and pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's mop of hair. 

Harry shut his eyes tight against the sudden burning in his eyes, and tucked his face deeper into Sirius' shoulder.

The leaves rustled happily around them for a long moment. 

As they eventually drew back, Sirius was back to his cheery self, talking on without a pause.

"Now that that's settled, let me tell you about all that happened after. We then planned the next steps for our family to take- the first of which was to bring the whole family under protection of the ancestral home. We secured two portkeys, and set off to get back you, and Moony."

"Profes- I mean Remus, he is inside?" Harry asked eagerly, clutching at the one thing he was sure how he felt about after hearing the story that put everything else he knew about his life into question.

Sirius' face darkened at that and Harry's face fell in response, "We couldn't locate Moony after he took off under Dumbledore's orders. I couldn't risk involving him in anything shady till I had solid proof- like we do now. Tony is now tracking the dangerous werewolf packs of Europe. Dumbledore had again ordered Moony to go undercover as a spy among them.... And _fuck_ if the likes of Greyback will take in a lone wolf - a known ally of Light from the previous war and with the scent of wixkind all over him -without ripping him to shreds first." Sirius spat angrily.

Harry paled at the words, sickened by the news. Then anger rose amidst all the whirling chaos in his mind _just_ at hearing that.

_Dangerous werewolves, shredding Moony to bits..._

_How could Professor Dumbledore_ _ask Remus of that?_ _How could he_ use _Remus like that?_

Harry remembered his encounter with werewolf with a faint shudder. _And that was Moony._

 _What's to guarantee that a mild-mannered gentleman like Remus would survive a pack of bloodthirsty,_ _harmful werewolves? Not simple werewolves- but a pack of true monsters..._

That's when Harry registered Sirius' use of the word " _again_ "....and realised with a sinking sensation-

_It wasn't the first time either._

"We'll discuss the rest after we get home, cub," Sirius said tiredly, nodding towards the house. "They have been impatiently waiting for you for a whole week. And right now I need a cuppa to prevent actually committing any murders." Sirius joked weakly, and Harry shook his head at him but silently joined him in walking towards the house, mind still whirring. 

* * *

The Potter's Hall was a beautiful two storied stately limestone building with a slate roof. ' _Jacobean?_ ' Harry wondered -noticing the symmetrical side wings from the odd channel surfings he did when the Dursleys were away.

Lazy tendrils of ivy climbed up the walls, covering the front of house enchantingly. Sunlight bounced gaily from the symmetrical windows.

A green lawn surrounded the grounds- marred only by boxwood hedges and what appeared to be a carefully tended herbology garden and a small greenhouse on either sides of the compound. A solemn empty kennel stood near the house.

Harry's nervous eyes took all this in- as his mind worked furiously at processing all that he had learnt.

The sweeping drive, which was circular at the end to enclose a moss covered enchanting fountain with lotuses, finished under a large stone porch. Up a flight of steps guarded by two majestic stone lions with folded wings,("That's your family emblem, you know?" Sirius had said nodding to the winged lions, leaving Harry to mull on how wicked it was to have _family emblems!_ ) they arrived before the mahogany double doors at front. There was a pair of golden door knockers - shaped as a roaring lion's heads.

Sirius looked at him, eyes careful. "You ready?"

Harry willed his nerves away and nodded, at which Sirius unholstered his wand and tapped the lion's head.

The metal lion opened its mouth.

"You may-" started an elderly male voice, but it was cut off when the door was immediately opened.

Harry started on seeing a grinning tall boy with bronze skin and messy raven hair in such a state of disarray - so identical to his...that it could only be his relation.

Harry's eyes widened.

_Wait...he knew this bloke!_

_He had came across him a couple of times at Hogwarts._... _A year above him or something._..

"Mum, he's here!" the raven-haired boy called, breaking into a welcoming grin.

"We heard, jaan!" called a female voice in answer, "Have some manners darling, and let them in."

Sirius winked to the boy, and chuckling under breath nudged a frozen Harry into the entrance hall.

Harry tore his eyes from the bloke, and gaped as he took in the elegant yet homely hall: with smooth stone walls proudly displaying family portraits, interspersed by delicate gilded wall-scones; a rich maroon rug covered the floor; and around the room were artfully arranged groups of comfy sofas and brown leather chairs and side tables, and a couple of bookshelves full of books that looked well-thumbed and truly cared for. The hall opened in four identical archways to either wings.

Two large candelabras hung from the vaulted ceiling, but the room was currently filled with sunlight spilling into the room through twin ceiling high windows at the back- which basked the house in a warm welcoming glow.

_Wait- was that a Quidditch pitch in the backyard?!!_

The twin windows framed an elegant stone staircase with wrought-iron rails, which branched into two- towards the right and left wings. A large silk tapestry with a central coat of arms hung as the backdrop to the landing at which the staircase forked.

An elderly house-elf in a clean fluffy frock appeared with a soft-pop beside Sirius, startling Harry into remembering to snap his mouth shut. "Master Charlus be waiting for Master Sirius and Master Harry in the study Tulisa be informing yous, then bring you yous favourite tea."

"Thank you, Tulie dear, much appreciated. Harry will take the ginger tea- that's his favourite." Sirius warmly informed her, and the house-elf disappeared with a happy grin and a low bow.

Sirius nodded to the left, and Harry, feeling thrown-off as ever, saw that the bloke who let them in was already waiting by an open archway to their immediate left- the double doors opening into what appeared to be a sunlit wood-panelled study.

He felt a nervous apprehension rise in him, and his shoulders tightened in response.

A gentle hand landed on Harry's tense shoulder, gripping reassuringly, and Harry glanced up to meet his godfather's eyes -and read the reassuring in those warm grey eyes, and took a fortifying breath.

Might as well be a Gryffindor about it and charge head-first in. Harry nodded to Sirius.

Sirius smiled back encouragingly, his eyes glinting, then flourished his hand in a sweeping motion to the study- letting him lead the way.

Harry found that the guy (his cousin?) had already disappeared into the study.

Harry squared his shoulders and stepped forward.

* * *

A man who was leaning against an elaborate fireplace, with rectangular glasses perched precariously on tip of his nose and a wild mop of black curls- gaped at Harry as he entered.

"Merlin, he does look like a mini-James." the man breathed.

Harry -who had nearly tripped over air on seeing a man who actually resembled his father _way more_ than himself at first glance- gawped at him in return.

But no, Harry immediately spotted the differences between the two: the man was taller and lankier than his father, with a scholarly air about him, not to mention the _grey_ eyes. His father, James Potter, had such warm, laughing, hazel-brown eyes.

Sirius had reached out to steady Harry when he stumbled. "Hark who's talking, Ed." Sirius snarked. "You nearly made me keel over when I met you earlier." Sirius smirked, but his glittering silver gaze was focused behind Harry.

Harry tore his eyes from the still gaping man and following his godfather's line of vision- saw a tanned elderly man with a shock of silver hair arise slowly from a chesterfield chair; a lady in a navy blue dress standing next to him, her rich brown hair in a neat plait over one shoulder- both watching him with warm eyes.

On a sofa beside them sat two white men- a black haired stylishly dressed younger one holding a small sleeping blond girl, while the guy stood behind a golden-brown haired bloke with a fashionable beard, wore _jeans_ and a plaid shirt under a brown jacket -like muggles, like _him_. He appeared to be the second eldest in the family.

Harry blinked at them in shock.

He _recognized_ some of them.

_...from the Mirror of Erised!_

These were the people who stood immediately next to the visions of his parents in the mirror.

A distant part of Harry's mind played Professor Dumbledore's words.

...His family.

"Godric." the silver haired elderly man breathed, wondering brown eyes trained on him. Harry identified the rich, deep baritone as the one that greeted them at entrance. He had fleetingly thought that the voice befitted a military commander he had seen in films... and the man certainly held himself like one. Despite his silver hair, he cut a trim and commanding figure even in casual wear. But the crow-feet, laughter lines and the easy way he held himself made him look approachable. Grandfatherly.

"It feels like it was only yesterday that I saw James tumbling over a string of fairy-lights exactly where you stand." the elderly man grinned, eyes crinkling with crowfeet. But the tint of grief remained in his eyes.

Harry's heart warmed at the effort; realising that they had only a week to process his parents' death, yet here they were trying to lighten the mood and make him feel part of the family.

"And here you stand- as if made from the exact same mould. Last time I saw you son, you were a cackling tot in Lily's arms, hugging a stuffed dog. Come closer, bud," he beckoned him affectionately, "Let me see you properly, Harry."

Harry felt himself approach the kind old man- compelled by the words, the pain and love he saw shimmering in the man's hazel-brown eyes.

 _His father's eyes_ \- Harry realised with a jolt.

The young lady stood beside the man, looking on with a soft smile, her stormy grey eyes glistening with tears. Harry could tell that she was holding herself still by effort- she had the same look Mrs.Weasley had before she usually swept him into a concerned-mother-hug.

The elderly man gently tipped up Harry's chin with a large calloused hand. "I see a lot of us Potters in here, and not a little of darling Lily too," the man smiled, his fond eyes crinkling. "I am Charlus Potter. Know who I am, son?"

"My- great uncle?" Harry answered hesitantly, suddenly ashamed that he had never looked up his family tree.

Though in his defense, he had thought everyone he had were dead.

And then he mentally berated himself for not asking Sirius who exactly were waiting for them, as preoccupied as he had been with the things he just learnt.

Charlus smiled a little wryly. "Excellent guess, bud. Your godfather just sprang all of us on you, didn't he?"

Harry sheepishly drew a hand through his hair, turning towards Sirius and saw Sirius rub the back of his flushing neck with a tattooed hand. "I might have just portkeyed him straight here." Sirius admitted with a guilty grin.

Charlus shook his head at Sirius in amused exasperation, as the brunet man sighed and turned to the younger bloke sitting next to him. "Ofcourse he did. Lex, think we should add kidnapping charges to work out on our list?"

The bloke nodded. "And probably sent someone to de-hex that house." He gave Sirius a knowing look.

"Hey, I worked hard on those charms!" Sirius defended, "Besides, those are all simple, benign pranks... to the best of my knowledge. It will be a waste of time to try undo them all, I'll just recast them. Those gits deserve it." Sirius concluded with a growl inching into his voice.

Harry stared at Sirius wondering when he had time to do all that, and exactly what awaited the Dursleys. Charlus sighed wearily at his side, as if deciding it was futile to argue with a pissed of godfather.

"And is it kidnapping though?" Sirius mused loudly, "I mean- I simply took back our kid who was kidnapped from _us_ in the first place." Sirius said with a nonchalant shrug.

"For once, my cousin may have a point there." the man near the fireplace -Ed, Harry recalled Sirius calling him, drawled.

Ed suddenly yelped, and turned to glare at Sirius - presumably hit by some nonverbal jinx.

Sirius simply smiled beatifically to the room at large, as the room chuckled.

"Children." Charlus shook his head at them in amused exasperation, then turned back to Harry with a lopsided smile. "Now, since that cumberworld great-nephew of mine-" (they ignored the indignant Hey! from Sirius and the renewed snickers in the background) "- had not thought of introducing you to us, let me have the honors, bud." Charlus smiled, hazel eyes dancing.

"You were right. I am your grandfather Monty's younger brother. But you can call me Charlus, or even gramps as these young lot does. And I was married to your godfather's great-aunt: Dorea Black, who, let me tell you- was the most beautiful witch to ever walk this planet. Well, apart from my little princess here, of course."

Charlus winked at the young witch by his side, making her smile indulgently.

"This here is my daughter- Elizabeth, who goes by Liz; and that little scoundrel-" Charlus indicated the man who was still glaring at Sirius, "is my son Edward -or Eddie."

"Always knew Liz was your favourite," Ed pouted, without any real heat.

Liz smirked back at her baby brother cockily in reply, and Harry could suddenly see the familial resemblance with Sirius in both of them, apart from their grey eyes.

Charlus shook his head at them- as if used to this familiar banter, then turned Harry's attention towards the sofa, to the men seated- "These two charming scallywags here are my son-in-laws: that's Alexie Constantine- who prefers to be called Lex, the husband of my son, with their daughter- my little angel Natasha," Charlus indicated the black haired man with the baby girl- who smiled at Harry with a warm nod,

"and this is my other son-in-law and father to that little daredevil Caleb-"

The black haired bloke lazily saluted Harry in acknowledgment.

Harry was still trying to place Caleb in his memories when Charlus introduced the bloke's father:

"-William Potter ne Rosier."

Harry froze.

 _Rosier_.

He felt his body tensing, and felt his magic flare up- the air around him rippling as his magic materialised around him protectively.

He was mentally transported again back to the graveyard in Little Hangleton; ...seeing the bright flash of absinthine green, hearing Voldemort's cold laughter, feeling Cedric's still warm unmoving body under his palms, his heart aching at the insubstantiality of his mum and dad's specters...

the names "Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Macnair, Nott, Pettigrew, _Rosier..._ " repeating like a war chant in his head on the sleepless nights filled with nightmares and tears.

Then suddenly Sirius' warm grey eyes were there- swimming before him, ad his disembodied voice asking him to _breathe_.

"-in through your nose, out through your mouth, yes, just like that Harry, in and out, yes, in and out- with me. Just like that, cub."

Harry realised with a start that he was sitting collapsed in the chesterfield chair, with Sirius kneeling before him. The witch who was at Sirius' side- Liz- _Aunt Liz?_ \- pressed a glass of cool water into his hands. Harry gulped it down gratefully, feeling the sweat pooled at the nape of his neck, and his magic slowly retreat from shimmering around him like a red-gold protective coccoon.

He realized that he must've had another panic attack; that too infront of people. And lost control of his magic. Again.

How embarrassing.

Harry flushed, and struggled to rise, apologizing- "Oh, I- I'm so sorry. I'm alright, really-"

But Sirius simply pushed him back down in the seat, grey eyes full of worry, "Sit, Harry. Hey, it's okay. You're alright. Right?"

Harry nodded empathetically before struggling to rise again- uncomfortable under all the concerned gazes.

"Sit, Harry, it's alright." Ed reassured Harry, from where he was standing beside Sirius. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Shock can mess with any wix's magic. And it's just us here- your family... We've got you."

Liz tightened her fingers around his- and Harry realised with a jolt that he had been holding onto her hand like a lifeline. And embarrassed as he was, he couldn't find it in himself to let go just yet.

Charlus returned to their side, having dispatched the kids somewhere, and placed a hand on the brunet's man's shoulder who stood watching them with a troubled frown at a distance. "I'm guessing Alan was there?" The man asked in a low voice.

Harry fixed him with a sharp look- the name _Rosier_ making his fists clench and causing something ugly to rise inside his chest.

Sirius nodded curtly in reply, lips thinning in anger. But he didn't take his eyes off Harry.

The man sighed resignedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. ( _Rosier_ \- hissed the dragon rearing in Harry's chest)

"Harry," Sirius sighed at Harry's angry glare, "The prat you saw, the- death eater? He is only some distant relation of William. Will is nothing like his born family, Harry. He is one of _us-_ a Potter. Hell, Alan might be more related to Blacks than him." Sirius asked glancing at Liz.

Liz grimaced, then nodded her head with a faint expression of disgust, "Druella's nephew."

Sirius grimaced back, in camaraderie.

"FUCK!" The sudden exclamation made Harry jolt in surprise, and he stared at William who had just cursed furiously.

"That family is one cesspool of lunatics!" William swore, and suddenly turning away, walked right out of the room, a fury of shadows trailing after him like an angry cape.

Sirius glanced back in faint surprise in the resulting shocked silence. "...And you lot call _me_ the dramatic one."

Liz sighed heavily, momentarily closing her eyes, before opening them and looking at Harry with a kind of unfocused intent.

Harry was still blinking in shock at the display of -shadow magic. He hadn't even know that that was a _thing_ untill now. So, he only registered belatedly the silent hum of power flowing into his veins. He looked down in surprise, and realised that his Aunt was feeding him a little amount of her magic- a steady flow of warm magic was treacling down her arm and into his... imbueing with his magic, strengthening his core, and slowly settling it. Harry realized with surprise that he was starting to feel more revived by it than from a proper whole night's sleep (which he hadn't gotten in over a month). It felt more reviving than even a renervation spell(he could say that with confidence- he had experience).

 _Family magic_.

He remembered Hermione muttering something about it last year while researching for their third task- about how the presence of family clearly gave the other contestants an edge over him. She had shut up only when Molly Weasley showed up for him. _That_ was more than Harry could ever dream of having...... but now Harry was beginning to undersand exactly what Mione was complaining about. 

His eyes unfocused as he focused on the curious sensation of the flow of magical power.

He distantly heard someone say something about going to make sure Will was alright, then the sound of footsteps growing distant, and someone sighing "When will that boy learn not to bear all the world's faults on his shoulders."

Harry only refocused back on the room when Liz gently let go his hand, and took the empty glass from his other hand.

"You have an incredible sense of magical power Harry, did you know that?" Liz asked with a slightly proud smile, and Harry shook his head. She smiled and rose to her feet gracefully. "Sirius will tell you all about it. And maybe we'll have a core testing ceremony some day soon for you- if you're interested. It used to be quite an important ceremony in a young wix's life." she smiled, before looking at the doorway her husband had disappeared through- and her face fell. 

Harry shifted a little in his seat- feeling like he had caused her sorrow, but unclear of whether or not he should be feeling sorry, and wondering if there's anything he could do to righten this situation.

Liz turned back to him with a gentle smile and patted his cheek, as if reading his worries. "Don't worry, it was none of your fault, jaan. Right now we are strangers to each other, and there are many things about you we don't know- like this gift of magical sensitivity you have, and there are many things about us- your family, that you don't know either. But we'll learn about each other in time, and we will grow more comfortable around each other, I'm sure. All I ask of you, is to give us a chance... Give us a chance to be your family."

Harry considered her words, absentmindedly worrying the end of his tee. Giving a chance to know them better...was something he can do. Something he wanted to try. Harry looked at her, and nodded gently. 

She smiled at him gratefully and squeezed Sirius' shoulder, before turning to her father. "And I might just know the solution for the latter, dad. ...I think it will be better if Harry learnt all the stories- firsthand."

Charlus paused and quirked a silver eyebrow, "You mean the family pensieve?"

Liz nodded, her hand absently trying to tame Sirius' hair.

* * *

And that's how Harry finds himself in the privacy of the Potter's study to assimilate in peace; with an offered pensieve full of memories of his family for his perusal, and his returned family waiting patiently outside.

Harry watched the box, feeling a bit uncertain as he finished the incantation Sirius told him but nothing happened. But then the air rustled with magic and Harry felt his tense shoulders minutely relax as a wave of magic seeped out from the pensieve box to fill the room- rustling the curtains of the ceiling high windows and a few parchments left on the desk.

The pensieve box was made of handsome maple wood- with a coat of arms on the top, and a sprawling tree carved on its sides. As Harry watched, the engraved tree came to life before his eyes: the wooden blooms began to blossom and the leaves rustled in a phantom current, and Harry felt a warm eddie of magic swirl around him- cocooning him and the pensieve at its eye.

Harry took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He felt like he was eleven again- clutching the album Hagrid gifted him at the train station: feeling the same emotional roller coaster he felt on that train ride back to King's Cross station- a confusing mixture of happiness, gratitude, eagerness, grief and an acute sense of deep loss.

He felt the same euphoric, swooping sensation that he had then: as if he held all the answers, all what's precious in the universe- in those few pages of album that he had clutched like a life line in his small hands. There was the same impatience burning in his chest- impatience to meet his parents, finally, as soon as he could get to the privacy of his room.

Now, he had them all- all the memories of his parents and Sirius and Remus, collected in a small unpretentious Pensieve sitting infront of him.

And a real, flesh-and-blood (if confusing) family waiting for him in the living room.

Harry felt his magic thrum in anticipation.

A light tap of a trembling wand on the coat of arms- and the box slowly slid open, spilling out a welcoming soft golden light;.... and then he was diving into a whirlpool of a different kind of magic -

...the magic of memories.


	2. The Hogwarts Letter- in 5 parts.

  


  


  


Harry landed in a large-ish, comfy bedroom first.

  


  


The rose gold sunlight streamed in through a bay window with seats replete with plush pillows- all decorated with flying snitches and zooming quaffles and roaring lions and dragon riding knights. The light inched its way through a maroon Kashmiri rug, and slowly creeped up the leg of a varnished mahogany bed, and onto soft linen bedsheets, and finally lit -what at initial glance appeared to be- a porcupine.

The porcupine stirred sleepily as the rays of light incessantly stayed upon him, as if determined to wake him up. A tan hand rose from amidst the bedsheets, and rubbed at a pair of bleary hazel-eyes that surfaced beneath the “porcupine”, which- on second glance, became apparent to Harry- was actually a truly terrifying mass of bedhead.

A loud gasp echoed in the high-ceilinged room, before the boy bolted up straight on the bed. His wide eyes landed on the moving mural of Godric Gryffindor the Brave slaying a Hydra on the wall across. The wall was also decorated by multiple posters of a quidditch team- all decked in red and black, and zooming around in the pictures. But this morning, he didn’t spare them a single glance.

“It’s the day.” The boy mumbled softly with reverence –his eyes staring in awe at the mighty Gryffindor, before his bronze coloured face lit up like the sun.

“IT’S TODAY!” he gleefully hollered out to the world, pumping a fist into the air- unsettling a sleeping owl in a brand new cage nearby.

The boy flung off his coverlets, tossing them all the way across the room in his excitement, and began to scramble out of his king sized bed in a hurry. But in his hurry, his knobby knees got somehow entangled in the bedspread and he went down with a surprised yelp.

The silvery barn owl in the cage fluttered its wings and hooted loudly, mirroring his excitement.

“James?” came a worried call from downstairs.

There was a bit of a scramble, a bit of a squiggle -before the wild-haired boy surfaced from the jumble of bedsheets on the floor, with a pair of spectacles held up in the air like a trophy and an undaunted grin on his face.

“I’M OKAY MA! ‘TIS THE _DAY_!!!”

A rich chuckle came from somewhere downstairs. “Get down here son, it has just arrived!”

James whooped into the silence of his room to his cheering (invisible) audience, and began to struggle out of the knot of sheets, to streak downstairs.

As James jumped off the last couple of steps to land on the floor, nearly upsetting a vase of flowers in the process, the mouth-watering smell of hot ghee roast and ginger chai wafted from the direction of the kitchens, along with the enticing smell of his favourite apple pie if James’ nose was right. And his nose, being a part of his majestic self- tended to be _always_ right.

Had it been any other day, he would have made a bee-line for the kitchens, to smuggle some of the finger-lickingly delicious batter (-if not half the pie) by charming the house-elves behind his mum’s back, but _today_ being _TODAY_ \- James gave the idea only a fleeting moment of thought as he vaulted over the brown leather sofa, and landed on one knee before the entrance to his dad’s study. Like a knight of yore.

“James!”

James glanced back in the direction of kitchens at the soft reproach in his ma’s tone - and winced at the sight of a lone bedsheet trailing down the stairs, an upturned table, and the slightly off-kilter copper vase that was a breath away from- James winced at the loud metallic clang- tipping over.

A theatrically long-suffering sigh came from behind, as a booming laughter came from the room before him.

“Let him be Mia- the kid’s just excited! Like he said- it’s the _day!”_ his dad called laughingly in his defense.

“That’s all fine and jolly dear, but he will be helping the elves clean up later, you hear me James? He needs to learn accountability, Monty.” His ma called back.

James grinned wryly as he rose to his feet (already with a plan how to charm Tulie to cover the task for him), eyeing the sunlit wood-panelled room before him with bated breath, excitement buzzing wildly inside him. It felt as if a batch of snitches had been set loose inside his stomach.

A salt-and pepper mass of hair appeared around the doorway- and hazel-brown, laughter-lined eyes danced down at him through thick gold-rimmed glasses.

“Well, I tried.” his dad –Fleamont “Monty” Potter-the potioneer extraordinaire and Lord of the House of Potter- shrugged with a grin, before wincing at the trail of chaos James had left behind. “But I wonder if your ma might be onto something here.”

James sheepishly grinned back at his dad, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry dad. ...But still- _“I tried”?_ A Potter can do better than that. After all our motto is- _Never give up,_ -”

“- _Never surrender..._ You tricky lad, you are trying to get me in hot waters with your ma before the sun rose, aren’t you?” Monty shook his head at him in mock reproach, before glancing in the direction of the kitchens and bringing a finger to his lips, eyes dancing mischievously.

James grinned in response and mimed zipping his lips shut like he saw on that muggle _moo-vy_ , and watched with dancing eyes as his dad unholstered his wand with a simple twist of his wrist, and flicked it in the direction of the mess, non-verbally casting with ease.

  


There was a burst of faint golden light at the tip of his dad's wand.

  


Then the copper vase rose silently and drifted into its place atop the side table. The side table shivered, before straightening itself. The bedsheet rose into midair with a flutter, looking like the muggle ghost he had seen on a _moo-vy_ (which was plain stupid because real ghosts never wore sheets -that’s house-elves. Muggles must have gotten them mixed up… _but_ on second thoughts, a poltergeist might wear sheets and pull off such stunts before muggle folks – and _Hogwarts_ was rumoured to have one of its own!) James stopped his excited, rambling flow of thoughts as the now self-folded sheet flew back to his room, and down came the sound his owl excited hoot at seeing that.

James grinned- his hand itching to hold a wand of his own.

 _Soon._ \- he told himself---Oh so _soon!!!_

Monty smiled in satisfaction at the result, before turning back to him- “Well now, what are you waiting for bud, get in there! It arrived just a while ago!”

James' face split into a sunny grin, and he squared his shoulders with pride before stepping inside….. already feeling the invisible weight of Godric Gryffindor’s legendary ruby-hilted gold sword in his hand.

_This was it._

_Today, he was becoming a_ proper _wizard. Today-_

“Mia, get in here! Hurry darling!” James heard his dad call back, just as he spotted the sight of a majestic eagle owl standing on his dad’s desk, looking critically down at a smoking batch of test-tubes and odd potion ingredients scattered across the desk top.

The curtains of the ceiling high windows near the desk fluttered in a dramatic breeze as the brown owl turned around and spotted him in turn.

 _The autumn was arriving_ , James thought with a heady rush- _and with it came_ -

James felt something like _sun_ rising in his chest as he spotted the illustrious red-wax emblem on the letter held in the owl’s black talons _-_

_And with autumn came ----_

_Hogwarts._

His ma-Euphemia“Mia”Potter, bustled into the room -stripping off and banishing an apron that definitely smelled of James’ favourite pie with a dainty flick of her wrist, and embraced his dad before swooping down to engulf James in a big hug, her brown eyes shining with unshed tears. “Oh my _nanha bacha!_ Leaving us soo soon!”

James laughingly squirmed out of his mum’s mittened hands with a sunny grin, “Not so _nanha_ anymore, ma! I’m a Hogwartsian now! A grown up! Soon I will be joining the Ballycastle Bats and be their legendary chaser- Youngest in the century! Mark my words!” James pointed a finger at them, already tasting victory like a fine brew of butterbeer on his lips.

“That’s my son!” Mia sniffled happily into a mitten, as Monty chuckled at James’ excitement, embracing his wife from behind. His dad tucked back a strand of loose brown hair behind his mum’s ear and placed a kiss on her rosy cheek. Mia smiled a teary smile at that.

“First go get your Hogwarts letter bud,” Monty remarked wryly, with his chin perched upon his wife’s shoulder and a lopsided grin on his tanned face, “Come now, don’t keep us in suspense, young man! These old hearts can’t take all that stress.”

James beamed proudly at the “young man” comment, as ma -having collected herself, smacked his dad's hand with a mitten,“ _Old?_ Speak for yourself, jaan. But your dad's right- do relieve the poor owl off his duty, Jamie.” His ma requested over his dad’s chuckles.

James nodded and turned back to the waiting owl.

The owl fixed him with an unreadable look, and blinked slowly.

  


James could _feel_ destiny calling.

  


* * *

  


Sirius slid down the banisters smoothly (ignoring the indignant protests of some ancestral portrait) and hopped right off the end of it -using a little magic to land noiselessly on the first floor landing.

He straightened his robes, and flicked away some invisible pieces of lint, before turning to send a charming wink to his Great-Aunt Lycoris, who was frowning at him in disapproval from her portrait.

The portrait huffed with an exaggerated eye-roll, and turned pointedly back to her original pose, letting him be.

Sirius grinned- giving himself a mental pat, and then turned to saunter down the last flight of stairs to the darkened hallway leading to Father’s study- pretending that he hadn’t been staying up all night by the attic window- with bated breath and sending prayers to Circe- to catch the first glimpse of his letter arriving.

As he stepped down the stairs in a stately manner, he kept his eyes off the sickening display of preserved house-elf heads on the wall- something that had haunted his dreams ever since he was a child. His cousin Bella hadn't exactly helped the matters by informing him that it wasn’t actually house-elf heads, but heads of naughty children and squibs who shamed the House of Black put on permanent display as warning. His cousin Andromeda had scoffed, and told him that her elder sister was just playing a trick- but Sirius never found the courage to examine the shrivelled heads for proof anyway.

Sirius suppressed a disgusted shiver, feeling the weight of their dead eyes following him.

 _Not today._ Sirius said to himself determinedly, eyes fixed on the dark Persian rug that covered the floor. He _will_ _not_ let it bother him today.

  


Tonight he will be dreaming of _Hogwarts_ and _magic;_ and _not_ of dead stupid shrunken heads or Bella’s chilling laughter, or the cold dark floor of his mother’s salon as blood dripped off his back after the punishment for hexing _darling Rudy_ with boils last Sunday’s supper.

 _Served him right,_ Sirius mentally sneered to himself darkly- thinking how terrified his little brother had been after being “teased” by his mad cousin’s equally mad fiancé.

There was something –off, about the lot of Lestranges. Gave him the creeps. It made Sirius wonder if it was all just Rudy’s _charming_ personality or if it’s a result of all their inbreeding, as Andy commented. 

But, _Pot, Kettle_ \- Sirius reminded himself, thinking of his own twisting and twining genealogy tree upstairs- and of his deranged cousin Bella _._

Hand carving abusive words on disobedient house-elves wasn't exactly considered "normal" even in his household. But her prodigious skills in magic -in dark magic to be precise, made his family blind to her less-than-acceptable choices of _entertainment_. 

  


As he reached the polished ebony door of his Father’s study, Sirius shook off his dark broodings and knocked briskly- requesting entry.

  


“Enter.” Drawled a distracted voice.

  


_Figures_. Sirius thought to himself, then took a breath to don his stoic mask, before opening the door.

The cold whisper of wards fluttered like an invisible curtain around him as he stepped through. Sirius wondered why Father was paranoid enough to set wards _within_ his own house. Then his eyes alighted on the probable answer.

  


His Mother- Walburga Black, was already seated haughtily in a bergere before his Father’s desk. She was dressed in a stylish dark gown, her hair done up in an twisted updo. A painted long nail stroke a black great horned owl perched upon the arm of her chair.

She glanced up at his entry, and her red painted lips twisted in a facsimile of a smile in greeting.

Sirius swept into a low bow, the healing welts on his back smarting at the movement, “Bonjour Mother.”

Sirius turned in the direction of his Father- Lord Orion Black, who was bent over his work, and bowed low again. “Father. I was informed my presence was requested.”

  


_A rather polite way of saying he was summoned to the study by a lowly house-elf_ , Sirius thought to himself. _But he was Heir Black, and hence tutored in the ways of diplomacy ever since he learnt to talk. Probably._

  


Orion continued writing on the expensive vellum sheet- his elegant eagle quill with golden nib scratching away at the high-quality parchment- signing off some court policy or the other in flourishing loops and angry slashes. He appeared to have deemed it unnecessary and a waste of his time to acknowledge his son's words or presence.

Sirius curbed the flare of irritation in his mind, and settled in for impersonating a lamp-post as usual, despite his eagerness to enquire after his letter.

His eyes fell upon the enchanted clawed hourglass on Father’s desk. Sirius wondered how it worked again- his hands itching to take it apart and study the charms placed on it.

Sirius risked a glance to see if Mother was paying any attention- his mind racing with a million ways to stage a distraction... but no. He had to behave. For a while longer atleast.

He side-eyed the common grey owl he had spotted earlier from the attic, sitting nervously perched upon a black windowsill. It held the much-awaited letter clutched in its claws.

_The Letter._

Sirius covertly took a measured breath to stifle the giddy excitement thrumming through his veins, his soul, his heart… and also to settle the magic sparking at the tips of his fingers. He was suddenly glad he stood with his hands behind his back. It won’t do to for Mother to see his lack of control, much less accidentally create a fire in his excitement, like on that yule. It would be _tres_ _vulgaire_ \- according to his mother; not to mention- _not tolerated._

  


Sirius forced himself to mentally take stock of his posture inorder to distract himself;- back straight, shoulders squared, chin up, eyes admirably bored and hands held behind back. Hair gelled back to perfection, not a strand loose (He strangled down the urge to muse it to stylish perfection). At any other time it would have been a risky posture to adopt- leaving the front of his body exposed to any hex. But today, to the best of his recollections, he had done nothing to worry about- having put up his best behaviour for the _past week_ in anticipation of the arrival of this letter.

  


Otherwise what if Mother decided to carry on with her threat to _teach him discipline_ and send him to bloody Durmstrangs instead? Or worse- Beauxbatons?

  


The Blacks had always attended Hogwarts. Though he didn't like to think himself as one of a herd- it was _Hogwarts_ , and he couldn't risk it.

  


He had even forgone dungbombing Kreacher in a great feat of self-control (only slammed the door right on its face) when the loathsome creature (he still haven’t decided whether to applaud or judge Mother's creativity on naming that thing) muttered under breath that he was being a “ _disgusting radical_ ” for wasting time reading muggle “ _dredge_ ” his " _unruly_ " uncle secretly gifted him on Litha.

Uncle Alphard had been forever wickedly cool in his eyes, and Sirius loved him all the more for being "unruly" in Mother's- and hence, Kreacher's- eyes. Just like him.

  


A frisson of worry went through Sirius on recalling the incident; ....but he had ordered it to keep its silence …so it wouldn’t have ratted him out to Mother, would it? Sirius knew the answer wasn't a definite no.

Sirius felt his palm start to sweat as the sand on the ancient hourglass kept falling- relentlessly, and with a stifling feel of perpetuity...

  


A portrait of his ancestor –one amidst the many that decorated the walls of the dark study- cleared their throat pointedly.

Father sighed at the subtle rebuke, and finally deemed it was time to look at him. The dim firelight of a silver wall-scone glanced off the well-oiled handle-bar moustache and sleeked back hair of his Father and lit the faint expression of annoyance on his face. Orion’s critical grey eyes flicked down the length of him (making Sirius hyper-vigilant of his posture and poise), before dismissively flourishing his quill in the direction of the owl, and returned to work.

Something inside Sirius’ heart ignited at the cool dismissal, and it took him everything to prevent his hands from fisting in reflex.

 _Atleast now,_ he had thought Father would show some sign of approval of him. Sure, it was only a letter due any wix reaching eleven years of age (he had been _furious_ last year when he didn't receive the letter -he was only a couple of months shy of eleven then); and sure he had many things to prove- like showing that he was _superior_ in magical prowess and in duelling than Uncle Cygnus’ daughters- _than darling_ _Bella_ (-who was already an invaluable acolyte of _The Knights_ ), and that he was _worthy_ of his title as the _Heir_ of the Black dynasty… But just this once, would it hurt him to show-

Sirius cut off his inner tirade as Mother's lips twisted a fraction at Father's dismissal, her cold grey eyes pointedly flicking back to her owl- Alastair, who flapped his wings and hooted menacingly, detecting his Mistress’ displeasure.

The grey owl quivered in fright at Alastair’s hoot, and Sirius took that as his cue to fetch his letter.

He quickly approached the owl, and stood shielding it from Alastair’s eyes.

“You poor schmuck,” Sirius murmured lowly to the owl as he undid the ribbon attaching the letter to the grey owl’s talons with quick, but gentle, fingers. “Quickly! Off before Alastair is after you!” He muttered, shoving the owl right out.

The owl hooted in surprise, before it recovered and took to the air; and Sirius mentally tipped a hat to it in acceptance of its gratitude.

  


But before he could shut the window, Alastair shot past him -in a whirl of black feathers, flashing talons and an ear-splitting screech.

  


“There’s a good boy!” Mother cackled behind him, “Chase that common filth off our porch, darling!” she crooned after the bird.

  


Sirius closed his eyes in dismay, his fingers tightening around the yellow-parchment letter, as inevitableness weighed heavily on his shoulders. He closed the windows against the distant terrified screeches of the grey owl with a thud. 

He took a quick moment to gather himself, then turned back to his parents- the nonchalant mask back on his face.

  


Walburga’s eyes had narrowed at the loud closing of the windows, but she summoned him with a quick crook of a sharp-nailed finger. In the play of shadows in the room, her black-lacquered fingers momentarily resembled the talons of her blood-thirsty familiar.

  


Sirius shook off his fantastical musings (which his mother _never_ tolerated), and approached his parents.

  


“Read it out, boy.” Father commanded, not even looking up from his papers.

  


Sirius tried to still the tremble in his fingers, and the excitement in his heart- a deafening roar in his ears, as his fingers touched the red-wax seal with the crest of Hogwarts, … and gently broke it open- the definite crack of wax seal music to his ears.

  


Sirius took another breath to calm his nerves.

He could _feel_ destiny calling.

  


He slid the parchment out, unfolded the letter, then cleared his throat subtly,

“Dear Mr. Black,”

  


* * *

  


  


“-We are proud to inform you that you have been accepted at the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

  


Lily pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, her green eyes glittering with happy tears.

  


_It was happening. It was finally happening!_

_Just like Sev said..._

_Oh, she couldn't wait to tell Sev!_

_  
_

“Oh my darling,” her mother smiled, sweeping her into a tight hug.

“I am so proud of you, tiger.” Her father- Henry Evans grinned, pressing a soft kiss atop her head.

  


As Lily discreetly dried her eyes in the cover of her mum’s embrace- the letter still clutched like a lifeline in her small hands, she heard her father thanking the short, stout Professor who had brought the letter to their home. None of them noticed the elder sister- a blond girl with a pinched expression- slipping out of the room in a hurry.

“Thank you Professor, for accepting my daughter to such an esteemed school. I can’t say how glad I am that Lily will have proper guidance and support in learning her, er, special skills.”

Professor Flitwick beamed, “Oh it was all Headmaster Dumbledore, sir- I’m just a messenger. Such a great wizard he is sir, such a great man… And besides, no one blessed with magic will go without guidance and proper education in this world as long Hogwarts exists, sir.” Professor Flitwick puffed up with pride- looking several inches the taller in Lily’s eyes at that moment.

“Magic is a blessing sir, and those blessed with it will forever be cherished in the halls of our Hogwarts. These little ones,” Professor smiled down with gentle eyes at Lily, “- no matter where they come from- they are the ones who can make a difference, change the world for the better tomorrow. And Hogwarts will forever be there- to assist them in whatever ways we can.”

Lily smiled gratefully to the Professor, as her mother-Hyacinth Evans took the letter from her hands. But as she perused the letter, a faint frown surfaced between her red-brows, “Do excuse me Professor, but there appears to be a mistake. The letter here instructs that on September 1st, the students must reach platform _nine-and-three-quarters_ at King's Cross? That's absurd- there’s no such thing in this world!”

“Ah, precisely so, Madam. There is no such thing in _this world_. Not in _muggle_ world.” the Professor agreed, jumping up from his seat. “This is my favourite part of visiting muggleborns.” he confided to a puzzled Lily with a grin, as he summoned his travelling cloak and hat from the hooks on the wall with a flick of his gnarled wand.

  


Lily stood before the end of the wand, watching the magic happen with wide and excited eyes.

  


He donned those before looking at them with an excited glint in his warm black eyes- “So Mister and Misses Evans, what say you to a tour of the Magical side of London?”

  


Lily beamed in reply, ...before visibly hesitating.

"Er, Professor? Would you mind if I brought a friend along? Don't worry, he's a wizard too, and he would've gotten his letter this morning as well, but it's just that- his mum's not well, so there wont be anyone to show him around..."

"Ofcourse Ms. Evans," Professor Flitwick said with an agreeable nod, "Just tell me the lad's address, miss. I'll go collect him in a jiffy. "

"Oh, it's right around the corner, Sir." Lily said, grabbing her shawl from a nearby chair, "Please, allow me to go get him."

  


* * *

  


Remus watched his dad- J. Lyall Lupin, gaze absently down at his scarred fingers holding the delicate cup of fine china- still full of tea, now gone cold- that his mam had pressed to his hands.

The morning was quiet and full of sunshine- just like any other Welsh morning- but for his dad sitting at home than at his workshop down the village. Or in the local pub. Remus mused that it was also odd to find a _witch_ seated at their dining table... And still outside the realm of ordinary, and bordering on something- for the lack of better words- magical, was the presence of the letter from Hogwarts, which lay open between them in a stream of golden light.

His dad's bloodshot eyes absently traced the patterns of stains on the rough driftwood table that served as their dining table- his mind no doubt processing the questions and worries and anxieties.... replaying the entire polite but strongly worded argument that had occurred between him and the witch- the Professor, this past hour.

Remus worried his lip- understanding and sharing the worries his dad had....

….and despite that- entertaining the impossible dream, the hope, that arose in his heart ever since he was handed _the letter._

  


Hope.

Something his dad had long given up on- he remembered his mam complain once. That his dad gave up on it ever since the- _the incident._

_Hope._

Remus fancied he could hear the flutter of it- like a caged bird in his chest, the beat of its wings echoing through the small and cozy kitchen, and echoing back in the pregnant silence.

He remembered his dad's slurred words in reply to his mam's complaint-

"Such a fragile thing –hope. _Life_. _Fate_. _Magic_. 

All that embodies the human life. And yet how laughingly outside humans’ grasp -of both their hands and of their minds- were these things."

His mam had muttered something about what else was fragile in reply- Remus had failed to catch what; but he still pondered on his dad's words, which mostly rang true to him.

What did humans have a control of, really?

He himself found comfort in controlling what little he could in life- with a predictable and orderly routine centered around his home- helping mam around the house, running errands or going fishing with dad, reading and writing in the rest of his spare time, or learning spells whenever his dad was not in his cups. But apart from that semblance of control, -Remus thought of the waxing gibbus out there- life was chaos indeed.

  


Remus shook his head clear of his musings. His mam always teased that him that he was just like his late gran- always thinking too much....

 _Would that make him a Ravenclaw?_

  


That thought brought him solidly back to the present. For his future- it all depended on his dad's next words, Remus knew.

  


And his dad was retracing the stains on the wooden table with his eyes stubbornly;- neither voicing a decision, nor raising his head to meet his eyes or that of his mam. Atleast he'd know what his dad was thinking if he could just _see_ his eyes.

  


The Professor leaned back on her chair, waiting patiently for his dad's answer as well.

Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Once he had gotten over his shock upon seeing her, his dad had greeted her like an old friend. From the exchange of pleasantries, Remus had gathered that she had been the Headgirl when his dad started Hogwarts. 

  


Hogwarts....

Oh, how many tales had he heard about the illustrious school.... his father spoke highly and in fond memory about his life there, about the spells he had learnt, the creatures he had dwelt, and of the legendary Headmaster- Professor Albus Dumbledore. 

His idol.

Remus had a chocolatefrog card of him tucked safely away under his pillow, to inspire him to stay brave and strong when the wind _howled_ some nights- bringing up bad memories.

  


Remus focused back on the present when the Professor cleared her throat minutely, and his mam bustled to put on another pot of tea, despite the Professor's protests.

Remus agreed with his mam. The Professor must be parched after the long argument she had engaged with his dad, both too stubborn to backdown or accede even a point.

A trait typical of Gryffindors- he knew from his readings.

But he also wondered if the Professor was more suited for Ravenclaw than Gryffindor- with how she had come armed with arguments and seemingly irrefutable logic, and _studies_ done on the matter- and shot down every bit of incredulousness, every offence, every defense, and every worry his dad had on the matter.

  


His dad had finally shut up when she slammed a letter on the table- a written document of personal vouching of safety from the Headmaster.

At the shock in his dad's tired eyes, Remus felt _hope_ start to grow in his heart. Professor Albus Dumbledore rose to the level of Merlin in his eyes right then.

  


Remus now stilled, his breath catching in his throat, when his dad sighed and placed the cup down.

  


His dad heaved another heavy sigh- as if mentally preparing himself, and his mam paused her fussing over the pot upon hearing it. 

This was it. Remus felt his heart fall.

  


Dad raised his pale bloodshot eyes, and met- not the Professor's erudite gaze, nor his mam's pleading green eyes, but- his.

Remus schooled his face to say that- _I know it's a difficult decision, da. And if it was- if it was a no, I'd understand it just the same._

He'd get it, really. Because despite all the wonderful arguments the kind Professor had made in his case- at the end of the day, ....he was just a monster.

_And what monster ever got to live a fairytale life?_

  


A spasm of pain flashed across his dad's face and Remus steeled his heart, ignoring the pain in his own chest- of delicate dreams falling and shattering.... He told himself to brave through it; ignoring hurt and pain was like a second nature to him anyways.

  


Dad cleared his throat, and spoke in a slightly gruff voice. “Remus... May Merlin’s light forever guide you in the right path, son. You have this poor father’s blessings.”

  


Remus stared.

  


Then a metallic clamour rang through the shocked silence as his mam burst into tears, having dropped the pot of tea. The Professor rightened the mess with a simple wave of her wand, a tiny smile on her face... and his dad's face broke into a small apologetic smile.

  


Then Remus’ eyes lit up in joy- like northern lights blazing across welsh skies, his heart soaring.

  


And for that moment, he was just another boy receiving his much anticipated Hogwarts' letter.

  


  


* * *

  


  


His mummy-Portia Pettigrew, was decking him in the best of his coats, not much later after the messenger owl from _Hogwarts_ took off.

The much awaited letter from Hogwarts, with the list of necessary books and supplies sat proudly in the front pocket of his brown coat (that she struggled a little to button over his middle), and the galleons his mum had saved for this day ever since he showed the first sign of magic (however late it might have been) was kept securely hidden away inside a pouch under her dress.

“There you go, Petey. Now let’s go get you a spiffing _wand_! Oh, my precious darling boy! Such a handsome little _wizard_ already!” she gushed as she wound her reedy arms around him, and Peter blushed and began squirming in reply- “ _Mum!_ Geroff! I’m too old for hugs now! Some of the boys might _see!”_

Portia drew back and wiped her eyes with the corner of her old silk kerchief, “You pay no heed to what those stupid muggle kids say baby,-"

Peter doubted he could ever do that.

Portia continued, "-you are a proper wizard now! Oh I’m just so _proud_ , my darling! You are gonna make me soo proud- I just know it!” she exclaimed, pulling him into another hug.

Peter doubted _that_ further still;- but he was happy to have gotten his letter. He could attend Hogwarts! He could learn magic!

"Stop it, mummy, you are embarrassing me!" Peter protested weakly- but inwardly pleased and very smug.

Finally having successfully squirmed out of his mummy's clutch, he closed the door behind them, and tugged the lock a couple of times to make sure it's properly locked. Can't be _too careful_ in their neighbourhood.

Ignoring his protests, his mother swooped down to place one last smooch upon his red cheek, before she lead him down the streets of Whitechapel, her head raised high and a bright smile on her face.

  


As he eased the thick knot of scarf around his neck, he saw Polkins and gang pop knuckles on catching sight of him. Before Peter froze, they caught sight of his mother accompanying him, and simply grumbled between themselves before slinking back into the alley, throwing him a dirty glare as they did so.

  


_'Ha, that's right! Walk away!'_ \- Peter thought victoriously with a grin, his hand rising to touch the letter in his pocket like a goodluck charm.

  


Now onwards he could walk these streets without fright even _without_ his mother at his side.

Now that he will have a wand of his own, those gangs can give him no barney-rubble no longer.

  


Peter couldn't help whistle a jolly tune at that.

  


  



	3. The Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

JAMES.

James wove through the milling crowd, chattering away excitedly to a stumbling along Peter Pettigrew (whom he had befriended at Diagon Alley) and a skipping Marlene McKinnon about his new "the-mother-of-all-pranks" Prank plan, as their parents followed sluggishly behind.

Dad was chatting about potions or something with a sharp-looking fellow, while Auror McKinnon listened in curiously.

Ma was dabbing her eye discreetly in a corner of her handkerchief as she talked with her group of witches she met for tea every other week- about politics and work. 

It currently included their neighbour Mrs. McKinnon, Lady Abbott, Lady Greengrass, a nervous Mrs. Pettigrew, as well as his aunt- Dorea Potter neé Black, and her daughter Elizabeth (his cousin Liz)- who had came just to see him off.

That’s when he caught sight of the main branch of the House of Black standing ahead- aloof and pointedly apart. All regally dressed and pompous.

Lord Black stood in the stiff poise of an aristocrat- wearing an embroidered robe in the darkest shade of forest green, and his dark moustache curled up impressively. A goblin-made golden watch chain gleamed delicately against his dark grey vest.

He was talking to a slicked-back platinum-haired Lord Abraxas Malfoy; whose hands rested atop a grandly carved crow-skull-headed walking stick.

Only a handful of people- either those of the self-proclaimed 'Sacred- 28’, or their business associates, dared to come forward to mingle with them.

James had only seen those two families at stuffy ministry balls his ma began dragging him to, after Aunt Dory pleaded her to accompany her to prevent fratricide. And James _really_ think they prevented murder- near _thrice_ just last Yule he had caught ma surreptitiously anchor his inwardly fuming Aunt while her senile brother- Pollux Black, ranted on obliviously and obnoxiously about restoring pure blood-supremacy and cleansing the world of filth.

His cousin- Liz, told him later that by "filth" Pollux meant muggles and muggleborns. James took that as his permission to prank the bigoted man next Yule.

It was no wonder Liz point blank refused to share a room with her mother's general family.

Behind the two men, Lord Black's wife- Lady Walburga Black, was using magic to roughly righten the robes of a stuffily dressed boy. She was clad in a dark designer gown, and was holding a positively hideous _monstrosity_ of an umbrella.

The boy- it must be Heir Black, James assumed, stood stiffly, a little pink around his ears as he listened to his mum's harsh whispers.

James absently wondered if Heir Black was as bigoted as the rest of his family.

Another boy, looking like a smaller version of Black, stood at a safer distance from their narked off mother- by his cousin’s side, and surreptitiously holding her hand.

James’ eyebrows shot up on seeing _Bellatrix Black_ holding a child’s hand in comfort.

He knew of Bellatrix from the many times Aunt Dory had gotten summoned to the Headmistress’ office on account of duels between her and Liz.

 _Ah..._ James corrected himself, as the gaslight lit the girl’s face when she leaned down to point out something to the young Black and make him laugh.

_All was right in his world again, for it wasn’t Bellatrix who was holding the tot’s hand- but the second sister._

The resemblance was uncanny- James noted, before turning a wary eye around to see if Bellatrix _was_ anywhere around. He had to have Liz’s back if another duel broke out in the platform.

A little closer to James stood the youngest girl of the Black family- the blond haired one, James had forgotten her name. She was a third year or something; already decked up in green and silver robes of Slytherin, and was simpering upto an equally-slick-haired-as-his-father Lucius Malfoy, heir to the House of Malfoy.

Malfoy was pompously showing off his new Prefect’s badge. Beside him stood a bored looking Augustus Rookwood.

_Gits_. James thought with anger- remembering the last Yule and their face-off.

It had ended with Malfoy and Rookwood sneering down at a punch covered James in a harmless prank gone wrong. The night turned for the worst when his ma denied him his hot chocolate as punishment for ‘improper conduct’ in public.

 _The insult!_ Never in his entire life had James sworn revenge that vengefully.

_Oh, they are in for it now._ \- James thought with a smirk, recalling the new "the-mother-of-all pranks" prank plan he had cooked up.

Snapping back to the present, he swiftly turned to check whether his ma was watching him.

Thankfully, she was still engaged in conversation with Aunt Dory and Lady Greengrass. Hence she hadn't noticed his"upto-no-good" face which she had a knack for spotting from miles away.

And _that_ never bode well for his amazing plans and experiments.

 _Why_ should only muggles get to make Frankenstein’s monster?? _Why should they have all the fun!?_

….And why on _earth_ shouldn’t he have a minion???

Suddenly, a low cackle filled his ears- and James turned sharply, his hand going straight for his wand.

But Bellatrix Black’s mocking gaze was trained on the Heir Black, who had just escaped from his mother’s clutches- looking all the more dishevelled somehow. James looked back and saw Liz look at Bellatrix like she was something that stuck under her shoe, before she turned around to the conversation she was having.

But James noticed Liz’ hand remain near her robe’s pocket- ready to weild her wand at any moment, so he kept a strong grip on his brand new wand as he turned back to the scene.

Liz (also known as the coolest cousin _ever_ ), was training to join the Auror's elite ranks -as a _Mentalist_.

It was one of the rarest powers among Wix, and Aunt Dory had been waving _that_ over her born family like a trophy.

It was his dream, no- his _goal_ \- to grow up to be as cool as Liz one day.

A mocking coo brought James back to the present.

James' eyebrows rose in appreciation as he watched Heir Black stand coolly in the face of his twisted cousin with an expression admirably bored;- goading the witch into a childish tantrum without uttering a single word.

 _He sure looks interesting_ \- James mused, watching the scene unfold.

Anyone to get on the wrong end of Bellatrix’s wand was someone worth knowing in his books.

James smiled to himself wryly as he imagined the sheer headache he would cause Aunt Dory by befriending Lady Walburga's son. Aunt Dory positively detested her niece, and for good reasons he’d wager.

But as he watched Sirius Black standing with a cocky smirk as Lady Black scolded Bellatrix, James just _knew_ that he had to befriend the boy right away.

“Jamie, look.” Marlene laughed beside him, tugging him around. His eyes followed the direction of Marlene’s entertained gaze to see- Mrs. Longbottom lecturing poor Frank.

Frank, a fifth year Gryffindor- looked stiff as a soldier on line of fire, hanging on to every word from his mother.

James snorted on seeing that Marlene’s elder brother- Marcus, had also got caught in Mrs.Longbottom's strict lecture.

Marcus sent Marlene and him a covert pleading look behind Frank’s back.

James grinned- a plan immediately forming in his mind- and pulled a suddenly protesting Marlene towards the Longbottoms, his heart set on the dangerous mission.

Sure, he might lose a limb or two, he might get lectured his ears off, but to leave a mate to suffer such a wretched fate was something he’d never do.

(Neither will he pass off such a perfect chance to create some chaos.)

But as he marched forth on his entirely chivalric mission, he did so not without throwing a last curious glance at the entertaining scene he had been watching.

The middle sister – the brunette look-alike with a Headgirl badge shining prettily on her green-trimmed robes, was now trying to de-escalate the situation. The youngest sister wisely stayed back, having chosen to keep company of the littlest Black, and was demurely hiding a smile behind a gloved hand.

Heir Black now stood stiffly listening to his father, and Lord Black's signet ringed hand was holding- no, _crushing_ , the boy's hand.

James frowned at that momentarily.

But then he got distracted when he was pulled back to his mission, to the adventure that awaited him:

Of rescuing a Marcus-in-distress from the terrifying clutches of the dragon- “Er, Hullo, Madam Longbottom.”

* * *

The Potters bid him goodbye as James (who was proud to be still in one piece) hung out of the train window, waving enthusiastically to his cheering crowd.

Ma was sniffling into a kerchief, hugging dad. “Promise me you'll send letters home every day, dear.”

“Everyday?!" James yelped, "That’s a _lot_ of writing ma- and Narad will get completely exhausted. Besides, there won’t be much to write, really. It’s _Hogwarts!_ I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Liz broke down laughing at that, making James throw her a dirty glare.

“Oh James.” his Aunt Dory murmured, a teasing glint in her grey eyes. “Do refrain from giving Minerva a headache on the first day of the term, hmm?”

“Ha!” Her daughter snorted. “If he _doesn’t,_ I’ll personally check him in at St.Mungos myself.” Liz grinned up at him, “That is if he hadn’t already got himself admitted. How is that toe, boyo?”

James bristled indignantly. “Hey, I came here to have a good time, but I’m honestly feeling attacked right now! _And it was the gnome’s fault, Liz!”_

Liz wiped at her eyes, “Sure it was, Jamie boy. _Sure it was.”_

James scowled, beginning to think he needed a new set of _family_. It _was_ the gnome’s fault!

But he was inwardly pleased that atleast his ma was giggling wetly now, and no longer crying as the train’s first whistle blew. 

James felt his skin buzz with excitement and magic at the sound.

“Hey! Don’t forget to send me my pie when I get sorted Gryffindor. _And_ when I make it into the team! _And_ when I become the youngest chaser in history! And when I-“

“Stop counting your basilisks before they hatch, James Fleamont.” Aunt reprimanded with glittering silver eyes, as everyone chuckled. “But nevertheless, I will add a batch of butterbeer to your bounty _if_ you make it.”

James whooped, and saluted his Aunt; earning him a pinch on cheek for ‘being a cheeky lad’.

Ma grabbed him for one last hug- nearly hauling him out through the train’s window by the force of her hug, and James held her back equally tight.

He pressed a big kiss to her cheek, and cupping her face in his hands, he peered into his ma’s eyes- “Don’t stress-cook yourself to exhaustion while I’m away, kay? And ask Tulie to make sure dad doesn’t burn down the house.”

“Hey! Watch it, young man! _Such slander! Defamy!_ ” his dad grumbled as ma laughed tearily.

“Ah, the lone house-elf’s war waged against a Pyromaniac Potioneer… quite a tagline for a novel.” his Aunt mused, making James laugh.

"Uh-oh. Prepare to star in mum's next best-seller, Uncle." Liz teased impishly, making everyone laugh.

Dad just shook his head at them with a sigh.

A grinning James revised his earlier thoughts of replacing his family. _Nah_ , he was happy with this lot.

Then before he could manage to dodge, dad had reached out and began tousling his hair fondly. “ _Dad!_ ” he whined, feeling his hair stick-up in everywhich way.

“And there makes the porcupine it’s reappearance.” Aunt sighed.

“Monty! It took me hours to make that hair lie flat.” Ma scolded, swatting dad.

“Relatively flat.” Liz piped in unhelpfully.

“It’s the _Potter hair_! Nothing shall ever tame it!” James declared proudly, running a hand through it, and probably messing it up further.

"The boy is right." Dad winked to him in support.

His ma and Aunt gave both of them identically unimpressed looks in response, before turning to each other-

“Cutting it didn’t help?” Aunt enquired.

“Grew right back. And the second time -the shears broke right in half." came the sorrowful reply.

The witches shook their head, then turned as one to examine James critically- as if wondering if _he_ was the problem, or if he was only a _part_ of the problem. 

James simply shrugged, uncaring. 

“The Potter women and their endless war against Potter hair… How’s that for a tagline?” teased back his dad.

As the still unimpressed witches fell back to discussing Sleakeazy’s ingredients and importing hair potions, dad turned to him, an uncharacteristic serious look filling his hazel eyes.

_Uh-oh_. James buckled up for a serious talk.

“Make sure you look after yourself, bud.” Monty said, holding his shoulder, “Make friends not just with those who you know, but look for friends outside your immediate circle, alright?

Don’t be quick to judge someone by what’s superficial- be it looks, money or family _.._. 

Don’t ignore the shy ones, for they might end up being the most interesting people you meet.

Nor be an ignorant friend to the ones that blaze brightly- for the brightest smiles can hide the most pain.

Be there for the others _bheta_ , and they will be there for you too.”

His aunt held up a finger, disputing the last instruction-

“Be there for those _worthy of your time and energy_ James, and they will be there for you too." she corrected, ever the Slytherin.

Liz shook her head. “ _Always_ be there for those who cannot defend themselves Jamie, whether they can return the favour or not.”

Ma agreed with her - ever the Gryffindors.

James nodded thoughtfully- trying to take in the best of all worlds. 

Dad smiled wryly. “Before this spirals into a debate on _morality_ , I believe another point needs to be made. _No unnecessary duelling with Slytherins. ..._ Or _anyone_ ,” he quickly amended at Aunt’s arched look, “- because there can be prats in _any_ house, really.”

Ma huffed. “Yeah, smooth save darling… But do listen to your dad, James.”

James nodded solemnly, holding back a smile.

Liz caught his eye before turning away to hide a grin, and James just _knew_ that they were thinking along the same lines:

... _that it sure left the definition of “_ necessary duelling” _open to debate._

Then the last whistle blew; and his ma was tearing up again. Dad hugged her close as he raised a hand to him in goodbye.

James straightened up and waved back to his family with enthusiasm, then dramatically jumped to catch the kiss blown to him by Liz, making them all laugh.

* * *

SIRIUS.

His Father- Lord Orion Black, shook Sirius’ hand stiffly in a traditional send-off; both of them ignoring Mother’s incessant mutterings about ' _mudbloods_ _and filth roaming around as they owned the place'._

Sirius had been vaguely interested to see a mudblood for himself, to know what the fuss is all about. But in the mill of people around him- a mix of robed and unrobed people- he could only differentiate the people who had a sense of fashion from those who didn’t. He recognised a few old families here and there- but they were only a few in the ton. They looked all the same in his eyes- more or less.

His Father’s eyes locked into his suddenly- and Sirius barely had time to put up his Occlumency shields before his Father’s mind tore through his- the feeling stark cold and slicing.

Orion’s hand clawed around his, and pulled him sharply to his side.

Sirius felt terror bloom in his stomach.

“I thought I told you to practice Occlumency.” Father stated in a soft voice.

Orion’s cold voice cut through Sirius’ soft apology. “Don’t embarrass me _further_ , Sirius Orion. A Black _never_ apologises. _My_ _Heir_ never apologises.”

Sirius pursed his lips and nodded stiffly- keeping his eyes trained on the stone wall of the platform.

He could feel Bella’s entertained gaze on the back of his head. Embarrassment and anger settled like hot coals in his stomach.

The _one time_ Father talked more than a couple of sentences to him- and that was in rebuke. 

_Figures_.

Sirius gritted his teeth.

As Orion continued his instructions, his calculating grey eyes swept around the platform- taking in and dissecting every person there- and finding them lacking. “You are Heir Black. Hence you will be the center of every one’s attention, the crown piece of every pureblood circle you deem to grace, and consequently the topic of every discussion ….as well a _target._ So keep your shields always high when you are in Slytherin; and when you are out.”

Sirius suppressed a shiver at the chilling words. 

_Slytherin was certainly sounding less and less like a fun place to be._

“You may join the Knights if you wish, but-”

At that Sirius’ thoughts paused.

Father made it sound like joing The Knights was an _option_ , when the rest of his family talked about it as it was granted.

And Sirius must admit- he had been least looking forward to getting inducted into The Knights.

According to his Mother, The Knights of Walpurgis was an illustrious group of elite purebloods established in her Hogwarts years, all of whom devoted to Salazar’s vision.

Salazar’s _vision_ itself sounded dodgy to Sirius. It disturbingly drew parallels with the vision of a mad muggle who caused mass genocide in one of his Uncle’s stories. He really didn't think wiping out an entire population was the solution to anything, whatever the problem might be.

But apart from his problem with the group’s ideology- the major deterrent to his interest in joining was the fact that the Knights were last headed by _Bella_ , ….and was now under the esteemed leadership of _Malfoy._

Even without hearing Andy’s reproachful accounts of The Knight’s less than knightly activities- _that_ was more than enough to make him turn back on that circle of pompous gits.

His Father continued his lecture, oblivious to his musings, “But trust no one. Let no one in your confidence.”

Sirius inwardly frowned at that in dismay. _Dammit, he was looking forward to making friends_.

Suddenly there was a flash of bright light in the middle of their platform.

Father's wand was at hand before Sirius could blink.

Sirius turned to look at the source of commotion- and found the tell-tale red smoke of a flash-bomb rise over the crowds.

“Just some runts messing around.” Uncle Cygnus grunted at their side, slipping his wand back to his backpocket.

 _Wicked! -_ Sirius thought impressed. It was certainly brighter than last year's batch. He had to order the new ones straight away.

Father reholstered his wand calmly, then turned back to him.

Orion’s fingers closed around his arm painfully. “Unlike these mudblood scum _, you_ _will_ _behave yourself..._ I will not tolerate a single report of petty mischiefs from school. Are we in agreement?”

Sirius bit back a grimace of pain as Orion's blunt nails dug into his skin, and he nodded sharply.

Orion’s cold grey eyes examined him carefully, before he released him.

“Remember that you are _my_ heir, Sirius Orion. Act like it.”

“Make us proud in Slytherin, Sirius Orion. Or else...” Walburga smiled sweetly, raising her wand.

Sirius- having frozen at the veiled threat, flinched back violently from her. Only then he realised that Mother was just charming his tie to knot properly.

Bella cackled at him, and Sirius felt his neck flush even as he threw her a venomous glare. 

He already knew which prank to pull on her on his next visit to Uncle's. _And this time, he will make sure not to get caught._

Mother drew back with a satisfied smirk. Satisfied with the slightly strangling knot or his response?

His Father’s gaze had moved to rest on the platinum haired Malfoys standing at a distance, chatting with uncle Cygnus.

“Nouveau riches.“ Mother sniffed in disdain, following Father’s line of sight.

Lady Malfoy caught their gaze, and smiled to them in familiarity, waving a silk-fan.

“Presumptuous upstarts.” Mother returned the smile silkily with just a twist of her painted lips, before turning back to him. “Teach them a lesson, boy.”

Sirius’ hand balled into a fist inside his pocket, even as he gave Mother a cocky nod in acquiescence.

Knocking Malfoy a couple of steps down his self-appointed pedestal wouldn’t be a problem… but he _hated_ this kind of underhanded politics Mother delighted in.

_Why not just tell people to piss off to their faces?_

Mother had said it was the _Slytherin way_ of getting things done, and told him he should work _harder_ at emulating the same tactics.

(As in- he should not yell at Bella or set her things on fire if she was horrible- instead, he should work _harder_ and beat her in duelling the next time.

He had immediately decided that he _hated_ the Slytherin way of doing things. _His way_ was much more fun, more satisfying, and infinitly _just_.)

Sirius snapped out of his dark musings as Bella spoke up in her snide voice. “Talking of distasteful company, Aunty… Great Aunt Dorea and her brat are both in attendance.”

Mother sneered. “Sending off another Potter runt, I assume. How many did that old witch whelp?”

Bella cackled gleefully. “Oh no, Aunty, this isn’t one of _her_ delightful offsprings-“

“I believe it’s the Heir Potter this time.” Father intercepted, eyeing the group coldly. “A once noble family... now reduced to a titular Wizengamot seat, penury and poor ideals.”

Bella coloured at having been cut off- but she kept her mouth obediently shut- with great difficulty, Sirius was sure. He sneered at her mockingly. Bella's dark grey eyes glared back, as if promising to throttle him in his bed. Sirius sneered wider at that, daring her boldly. _The next time she sneaked up on him, he'll made sure she'll be in for one nasty surprise. It would take _years_ to wash off the stench of his new batch of dungbombs._

“Bloodtraitors, the lot of them!” Mother spat decidedly, glaring in the direction of Potters. “Always fraternising with filthy muggle scum. They are a disgrace to the name of Wix! ...You shall teach such mudlovers their place, Sirius Orion. Show them what it means to be a Pureblood." she commanded him.

_'Why should he bother?'_ Sirius thought absently- trying to catch sight of any of the “muggle scum” the Potters fraternised with. Damn, it was really hard to distinguish them. Are they that good at camouflageing and blending in? Is that why they were a threat to wix kind? Because lower blood can be just anyone, and they'd spread their- er, muggleness(?), to the unsuspecting purebloods? Sirius still haven't gotten a clear explanation why mudbloods were so terrible, even after hearing a million yules' worthy of Grandfather Pollux verbal tirades against their kind.

Suddenly Lord Avery was shuffling close to them- greeting Father in a flurry of superfluous praises and flowery language. Father briskly turned away to engage in conversation with his peer…...dismissing Sirius from his presence without a word, much less a nod or a glance.

Sirius felt his nails dig into his palms, and he quickly masked his anger, and bowed the customary parting bow in the general direction of Orion. _Whether Orion noticed or acknowledged it, he didn't particularly care_ \- he thought angrily.

On rising, he turned towards-

Sirius blinked as he was nearly bowled back by something small and compact colliding into his chest.

He looked down in surprise -and found Reggie, his little brother, hugging him tightly.

His face was surprisingly wet where it pressed to his chest, his eyes screwed shut. “Take me with you.” Reggie muttered plaintively.

 _“Regulus Arcturus!”_ hissed Mother incredulously - probably shocked at the unseemly public display of affection.

Public or not- Sirius mentally agreed it was _very_ uncharacteristic of any Black.

As Reggie stiffened in his arms in response to Mother’s admonition, Sirius swiftly recovered from his surprise and hugged his brother back fiercely.

He quickly whispered to him, knowing that their time was limited- “Dont whine, you will get your letter soon, kiddo. In the meantime- look after your own hide, alright? Don't protect those infernal creatures of yours and put yourself on the wrong end of someone's wand. Infact, call that foul elf of yours if Mother ever gets in one of her moods; I've left orders with it.”

In the meantime, behind him, Walburga was swiftly reaching one of her notorious _moods_. “Enough with behaving like _uncouth_ _infants_ , I say!” she hissed, her painted nails clawing down into Sirius’ shoulder. “ _Behave,_ or I’ll _have_ you-“

Sirius quickly muttered his farewell in Reggie's ear before Walburga got to drawing her wand- “There’s a batch of dungbombs under my bed. _Have fun.”_ he grinned to Reggie's ear before pulling back and shoving him in the direction of their cousins; --and away from the immediate vicinty of Walburga's aim.

Sirius smiled a bright grin in the face of his angry Mother.

“Just showing some brotherly affection, Mother. Au revoir.” he said with a smart low bow- which, on second thoughts, might have come off a _tad_ too cheeky.

He guessed right. As he rose, Walburga's artic eyes were promising retribution for his insolent behaviour. In his peripheral vision he could see Andy discussing politics with the Lords- simultaneously covering Reggie, who stood behind Cissa, and was scrubbing furiously at his face with a handkerchief Cissa must have conjured. It had far too much lace in it to be tasteful, not to mention it was disgustingly girly in pastel pink.

Yet- _good_.

Not only would he himself be outside the immediate vicinity of Walburga's wand in the near future (which currently made him less inclined to be terribly fussed about any upcoming punishments), Mother was also putting her wrath _entirely_ upon him- sparing Reggie in the process, exactly as he desired.

Good.

He nodded to his extended family- ignoring Lady Malfoy who was hiding her grin behind her silk-fan, then took off _en haste_ as the train’s last whistle blew.

“And write to me chicklet!” he called back to his little brother as he hopped onto the train.

Andy heaved a weary sigh behind him, having followed him at a more dignified pace. “For Salazar’s sake _petit monstre_ , be attentive of the audience.”

Sirius winced, realizing his slip-up too late.

And sure enough, when he turned back, Walburga was glaring daggers at him with pursed lips, while the vacuous Lady Malfoy was giggling behind her fan.

The Blacks didn’t have Oracles in their family, but Sirius didn’t need a divinatory gene to _know_ that the near future will include one of Mother’s notorious Howlers…. and that the poor sod on the receiving end of it this time will be, much unfortunately, himself.

A male voice unexpectedly sliced through his mind- "Do us proud in Slytherin." Father's cold voice commanded, his grey eyes severe on his, before he turned back to the dawdling Lord Avery- without as much as a nod of farewell.

Sirius had the sudden urge to shout: 'I don't want to be a Slytherin like _you!'_ at Father....

But he was a Black, so he had to refrain.

Deciding he can ignore Father just as well, he turned angrily towards the carriage.... and was surprised to find Andy waiting for him, looking at their family with an uncharacteristically hard look.

In a blink, her grey eyes shifted to their familiar warm silver as they settled on him. Andy waved him in with a roll of parchment, _“Dépêchez-vous!”_ she hurried him. “And if you still don’t want to sit with us _girls,_ cousin," she drawled, "then I suggest you find a compartment for yourself. I am late as it is without having to babysit you tot.”

Sirius rolled his eyes outwardly at her snarky attitude, but he was glad she had waited, just the same. She really was his favourite cousin, and his third favourite relative. (That, including a family portrait, brought the total number of people he liked to a tentative five. Apart from Reg, none of those were his immediate family. But all were certainly related to him by blood, because, sadly, as Father said- a Black doesn't have friends. A Black has only aquaintances or associates- because a Black should trust no one outside their blood. [But Sirius was determined to discard that pesty little commandment. He _wanted_ friends.]) 

Andromeda Gemma Black, known to her loved ones as Andy, sighed impatiently as he dwadled. Shewas a seventh year- which was _cool_ since she knew all the spells ever to exist... but it also meant that it was her final year at Hogwarts. As in, he'd only share this one year with her, before she went off to university. But he was glad that atleast for the year he'd get to experience Hogwarts alongside her, and not just read about it from her letters.

His cold-hearted cousin Cissa (who detested her first name, and hence fashioned her middle name to be her identity) had already vanished inside -probably gone off in search of her gaggle of silly friends. He was honestly relieved that Cissa hadn't remained; she would've roped him in to _socialise_. Sirius considered that. _Or,_ she wouldn't- had she learnt her lesson properly the last time. Last yule, he had barely escaped her bestfriend Venessa Flint's sickly sweet simperings and pink taloned hands by the skin of his teeth. And he still adamantly maintained that he had absolutely no idea how Flint had transformed into a human-flamingo while chasing after him. He still gave thanks that Mother had just decided to be delighted by his show of wandless magic and in the public humiliation of the Flints, rather than take offense at him for ruining her party. Lady Flint was decidedly less delighted, but she would've been a colossal fool to take wand against a Black, so she kept mum about it as she herded the shreiking _flamin-girl_ out. Sirius mentally shuddered at the memory. 

“Oh no, Mademoiselle Headgirl, please,” Sirius said, snapping back to the present. He opened the door for his cousin and swept a hand in a graceful flourish towards the interior. “Your Headgirl-y duties awaits!... And even in the _most heartfelt_ absence of your guidance, I assure you Mademoiselle, I shall strive to survive this jungle of unwashed and rowdy brutes to the very best of my abilities. You have my honourable word.”

Andy looked heavenwards in exasperation.

“Why must you punish me so?” she plaintively asked the universe in general, before turning her treacherously glittering silver gaze upon him.

She could keep her expressionless mask, but she never had much success masking her eyes from him. Sirius grinned back, equally enjoying her melodramatics. It was something they shared- this love for dramatics. It particularly drove their prim and proper siblings crazy, but that was just the bonus.

“Alright you little rascal, do not cause me too much trouble.” Andy warned him with a rolled up mass of parchment.

Sirius gave her a mock-indignant look, and put a hand over his offended heart. “Andy! How you wound me. I assure you my lady, Sirius Black is on his best behaviour.” he declared with a beatific smile... already thinking of a smuggled in dungbomb, and a platinum blond head marked X.

He wasn't lying, per se. He truly was in his best behavior, _when_ he was concoting or executing mischief.

In his views, atleast. (And that's the only view he ever bothered about.)

Andy eyed him waryly.

“Not yet a NEWT student struggling to hold onto sanity...yet already referring to himself in third person. Swell.” she remarked dryly, with an amused glint in her eyes. "Go on, get out of my hair, you little hooligan. Go find yourself some unsuspecting Hufflepuff to terrorize." She ruffled his hair fondly before sauntering towards the front of the train- where, presumably, the Prefects' carriage awaited her.

Sirius blinked at the unexpected show of affection from her. 

The day sure was _different._

Sirius closed the door behind her with a soft smile, and then turned in the opposite direction. He took in the bustling interior of the carriage across.

A heady sense of freedom filled his heart... 

....which manifested outwardly as a grin of _pure mischief_.

Sirius grinned. 

Oh dear world,

\- Here I come.

* * *

REMUS.

Remus felt as if a thousand Yules had come together- full of wonder awe and gratitude as he looked around the coach excitedly, drinking in the sights he had only ever heard about, and according to his happily sniffling mamau: was miraculous for him to experience.

The joy of being here- on the train to _Hogwarts_ , eclipsed all the worries he had about the upcoming fullmoon.

 _He could barely feel the tug of the waxing moon as it was!_ -Remus thought happily as he looked out at the boisterous bustle in the platform.

Before the train’s first warning whistle sounded, he had already secured an empty carriage at the far end of the train- carefully away from the carriages filled with kids even though the moon was days away.

His dad helped him stove away his trunk as mam looked on from outside, and now they stood by his window- talking to him and sharing his excitement.

Back in the station dad hung back, eyes taking in the surroundings, raising a hand in greeting to some old acquaintance, or exchanging quick pleasantries with some colleague from work.

Mam -however breath taken she had been when she first stepped into the magical world- had her eyes only for him ever since he boarded the train.

She smiled softly at him from the other side of window- and reached out a dainty hand to tuck back his hair. Remus leaned in to her touch- breathing in her familiar, comforting scent of home surreptitiously, and securing it in his memory.

It was the first time he was going away from home... the first moon he would experience away from his mamau’s grounding presence.

Remus felt a bubble of worry bloom again in his stomach at that thought.

“Hey,” his mamau said, gentle hands coming up to cup his face. “Remus.”

Remus opened his eyes, and found his vision was blurry- clouded over with tears.

“This is no moment for sorrow, cariad.” Mamau murmured lovingly, brushing away the dampness at the corner of his eyes. “This is a miracle, son; a moment to rejoice. And all this- it may be new, it may be different... But different isn’t always _bad_ , fy mab. Who knows what you will find on the other side?”

A sudden flash of brilliant light made them startle- and they looked towards the far end of the platform, where something had begun to emit a peculiar red smoke in the midst of the crowd.

“Nothing to be worried about,” his dad assured, just as some laughing kids pushed through the crowd and ran past them. “Just some kids playing around with Zonko’s stuff.”

“I, for one-” continued mamau, running a marvelling gaze around her -over the cats mewling in their owners' arms, over the owls fluttering and hooting at each other in cages, over the students, some already in their long black robes, loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart- “-am sure it won’t get _duller_ than Dolgellau.” 

Remus couldn't help smile slightly at that.

“And there’s that beautiful smile! Yay!” Mam beamed. “Now cariad-- be my brave little knight, and you face those dragons, yeah? I have a feeling that something great is waiting for you right there, and you know how on spot my intuitions are.”

Remus nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeves, and gave her a tremulous smile.

His dad cleared his throat. “Now Remus, remember–“

Remus quickly went through his mental checklist- “That homeworks must be turned in on time? Raise a hand when asking questions? Duelling is not allowed? Or is it that-“ he suddenly paused, frowning to himself, "-which rule came next in _Hogwarts: A History?_ Was it _‘First years are not allowed brooms unsupervised’_ or ‘ _Never trust a poltergeist' ?"_

Dad blinked at him slowly in surprise, before chuckling. “Not sure, son. I just meant to say--- remember to change your pants every single day, alright? But I'm glad to learn that you know the rule book byheart.”

Remus felt heat trickle across his neck and bloom on his ears, and Mamau giggled as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his flushing neck.

He just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t inadvertently make a mistake that would get him expelled.

It was _Hogwarts_. He couldn’t risk it.

The train’s warning whistle sounded.

His ma sighed heavily, and tugged him close to press her lips to his forehead. Remus felt the sting of tears in the back of his eyes again, and he sniffled quietly, trying not to be obvious.

“Oh my cariad…” mam murmured, never missing a trick, and then she was littering kisses all over his face- making Remus weakly giggle, yet bask in her shower of affection.

“Keep that gorgeous smile on you, young man.” she instructed, drawing back.

Her moss green eyes were glittering with unshed tears, but she, as usual, had a bright smile on, just for him.

His dad nodded to him over mam’s shoulder. “Take care fy machgen... And don’t forget the meeting with Minerva.”

Remus nodded, his light-hearted mood receding a little.

His mam gave him a bolstering smile. “And above all- _don’t forget to have fun."_

Remus grinned back to her brightly, taking care to keep his worries off his face.

The last whistle blew- and then the train was slowly pulling away from the station.

“ _Hwyl am rwan!”_ his mam grinned. “ _Joia!”_

 _“Dan eich bendith_ _.”_ Remus smiled in reply, earning him a fond pat on his cheek.

His dad nodded to him in goodbye, eyes shining proud.

He grinned as mam sped along with the train- her tawny hair dancing in the engine's steam and soft green eyes drinking in her fill of him.

And he kept grinning and waving to them until they disappeared from his sight.

* * *

LILY.

Lily sniffled into her mum's shoulder as her dad clutched the two of them close.

She opened her eyes to find Petunia stand stiffly apart- dressed in a pretty blue dress and her hair in perfect gold waves. She was looking around the platform with narrowed blue eyes, having declined dad's request to join in on the group hug.

It hurt her that Tuney had been acting rude and distant to her for the past few weeks.

Over her shoulder, Lily saw Severus step around his thin and sallow-faced mother, and smile encouragingly at her.

She returned him a wobbly little smile over her parents’ shoulders, and Sev's face brightened a bit.

_This was it._

_They were finally going to Hogwarts!_

"You good, pumpkin?" Hyacinth Evans asked holding onto her tightly.

Lily nodded, closing her eyes and holding on to her mum a little longer.

It was the first time she will be away from home for this long. Though she had been eagerly awaiting the Hogwarts express and going to the school of magic, right now she was already missing her room, her bicycle, her home… and her family.

Her dad pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and Lily opened her eyes to meet his shimmering green eyes. Just like hers.

"I already miss you, my little pumpkin." her dad- Henry Evans- tried to grin through his teary look.

Mum chuckled. "Don't you go crying on me too, hon. I can only hold strong for so long. So have a tissue. And you dear," she drew back to meet Lily's eyes, holding her by her shoulders, "You got all the stuff on that list? Robes? Books? Cauldron?"

Lily nodded, accepting the kerchief her father offered.

Her mum continued the checklist- distracting her from further tears. "The measuring scales? -could do with those in cooking… Your wand? Inkpot and quills? -far easier to use a biro, I must say... And what else?"

Her dad grinned to her mischievously. "The entire assemblage of pointy hat, flying broom, warts and green skin?"

Lily laughed.

"First years are not allowed brooms, dad. It's in _Hogwarts: A History_. But the rest -all set." She said with a grin.

Dad's eyes crinkled in a smile. "There's that cheeky lass of mine."

Mum narrowed her eyes at them playfully, "Come home with green skin, and I promise you a thorough scrub down, young lady."

"No promises." Lily grinned back to her mum cheekily, before turning to her sister ...and her smile fell.

"Oh, if you must." Petunia sniffed with a roll of her blue eyes, reaching an arm to her. Lily grinned and tackled her sister in a tight hug. "I'll miss you, Tuney." Lily whispered.

Petunia scoffed, pushing her away. "When off to a castle full of magic that you've been dreaming about for ages? I highly doubt that."

"Tuney, listen--" She caught her sister's hand and held tight to it, even though Tuney tried to pull it away. "Maybe once I'm there-- no, listen, Tuney! Maybe once I'm there, I'll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind!"

"I don't-- want-- to-- go!" said Tuney, and she dragged her hand back out of her grasp. "You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a-- a..."

Her blue eyes roved over the platform, taking in the magic in all it's eccentricities.

"-- you think I want to be a-- a freak?" she demanded.

Lily's eyes filled with tears as Petunia succeeded in tugging her hand away.

"I'm not a freak," said Lily. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"That's where you're going," said Petunia with relish. "A special school for _freaks_. You and that Snape boy... weirdos, that's what you two are. It's good you're being separated from normal people. It's for our safety."

Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce.

"You didn't think it was such a freak's school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you."

Petunia turned scarlet. "Beg? I didn't beg!"

"I saw his reply. It was very kind."

"You shouldn't have read--" whispered Petunia, "that was my private-- how could you--?"

Lily gave herself away by half-glancing toward where Severus stood nearby. Petunia gasped.

"That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking in my room!"

"No-- not sneaking-- " Now Lily was on the defensive. "Severus saw the envelope, and he couldn't believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that's all! He says there must be wizards working undercover in the postal service who take care of--"

"Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere!" said Petunia, now as pale as she had been flushed. _"Freak!"_ she spat at her, before flouncing off and standing alone in a corner -hands crossed, and fuming.

Lily stood equally alone- angry and heartbroken, her eyes brimming with tears again... only to have her dad sweep her off feet into another hug.

She buried her face in the his shoulder- inhaling the familiar smells of factory smoke, cigar pipe and mum's detergent- and bit back the sob that rose in her chest.

Dad tightened his arms around her reassuringly. "Don’t worry about Tuney dear. She is just a bit upset that you are going away. I’ll talk her around. I’ll even throw in an ice-cream cone, and she’ll be right as rain again... But promise me you will write to us without fail?" dad murmured to the top of her head.

Lily nodded back fiercely, holding back another wave of tears.

Once he was assured she had gathered herself, dad lowered her to the floor, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head.

He then knelt before her and met her eyes. His eyes shone happy and proud. Mum smiled over them fondly, placing a hand on dad's shoulder.

"Now, all set you say?" her dad asked, gently tucking a stray red curl behind her ear.

Lily nodded.

Excitement and magic was once again thrumming in her veins.

Henry Evans smiled. "Then you go get them, tiger."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and bookmarks! You guys are amazing!!! <3


	4. Friendships Forged

  


REMUS.

  


  


Remus absently rubbed at the tightness in his chest- missing his mamau already. His hand curled around the worn-soft red cover of his seat, grounding himself from the tide of worries that swept into his mind.

His started on hearing a ring of happy laughter -and turned to find children clad in robes loitering outside, laughing and catching up with their friends. He felt a mixture of half anticipation, half nervousness churn in his stomach as he watched them. 

  


_Would it be okay for him to make a few friends here?_ he wondered once again as he watched the gaggle of happy kids outside.

_Of course, they should never learn about his condition... and he would stay at a proper distance from them to ensure their safety and everything....._

_But, could he?_

  


He never had any friends growing up in Dolgellau... Not since the – _incident_ , as da referred it to as.

Remus shuddered involuntarily at the memory- and firmly pushed it to a dark recess of his mind. It was much easier to push away fear, than worry. Especially when you had countless hours (practically _years_ \- five years to be precise) of practice doing so.

  


He hadn't attended any of the local schools. He couldn't afford to- owing to his _condition_ , and the unexplainable monthly absences and presence of bruises. It made schooling impossible, much to his heart's dismay. Even having neighbours who occasionally visited, prooved troublesome. So his family had to move from their apartment in Cardiff to a cottage near the King’s Forest, in Dolgellau- da's native place. The cottage was to the distant outskirts of the village, and da turned an isolated hunter’s cabin deep in the woods to a place where he could transform without drawing attention.

  


Remus _hated_ that cabin. It was a place he associated with pain, fear, darkness, and an unexplainably haunting sense of loneliness.

  


When he was seven or so, he had once asked da for permission to go play with the kids down at the village. Da had gingerly told him that it might not be safe for others to play with him... and looked heartbroken when he asked _why_.

On growing up, he had understood why- by piecing together the things he overheard, and later, from reading the magical texts his da kept locked up in his trunk.

After reading a few of those (and losing his stomach and a few nights’ sleep in the process)- he had emerged the wiser.

And he never asked why again.

  


And he had to admit- he _was_ quite happy with spending his days quietly curled up with a book, or helping around the house or taking long walks in the King's forest with mamau, and learning new spells occasionally whenever da was in good spirit.

He had never felt the need for friends.

His books were his friends. And his mamau- his bestfriend.

  


But amidst his errands to the village, he _might have_ occasionally paused to watch local kids play boisterously. And he _might have_ daydreamed a time or two about what it would feel like - to have exhilarating adventures and endless fun with jolly gangs of friends, like he had read in his books.

  


But he never actively _wished_ for friends. Because he knew he couldn’t. It was impractical.

And also- _dangerous_.

One slip of a tongue- and he might get taken away from his family. Charted off to who knows where... like Azkaban. 

His parents had not told him that. He had learnt that on his own.

Werewolves were not viewed kindly by the society.

And he couldn't really blame them. The accounts of werewolf attacks he had occasionally read in The Prophet (always without his da's knowledge), were appalling enough that he agreed to their social ostracization, if not executions, whole-heartedly.

Monsters like those had to be punished.

But it also made him acutely wary of the presence of anyone other than his parents around him. Especially on the days leading to fullmoon.

He didn't want to be a danger to others. He didn't want to bring harm to a single soul. He did not want to become a monster himself...Or rather- _more_ of a monster.

  


And he had made peace with living like that- of being _a_ _living_ _secret_ \- until two weeks ago, when a witch came knocking at their modest cottage door, with his letter of admission from Hogwarts.

  


The Professor had managed to convince his father that it was possible for even one with his condition to attend Hogwarts ...that he was not a danger to anyone, outside of fullmoon.

Remus had been floored by that knowledge. None of the books he read ever said anything like that. He had listened on in shock as the Professor laid proof after proof before his da and him, explaining how he was a wizard like any other, and deserved his place at Hogwarts.

Even when he was gobsmacked by the facts laid out before him, in the back of his mind he did recognize it to be true... because he was around his mam and da all the time, except on the night of fullmoon.... And he had never done them any harm, ever.

  


Remus was indeed floored by that knowledge, and then- _thrilled_.

That meant- _he can go to Hogwarts!......_

_That meant he could have friends!_

He had never realised how much he wished for friends until that thought occurred to him.

  


Remus worried his lip as the kids outside drifted away, in chattering groups and laughing gangs, leaving him alone with his nervous worries in his compartment.

_If only he knew_ how _to make friends..._

Remus shook off the pointless worries, and reminded himself his mamau's words- 

‘ _Always focus on what is in your power to control’._

He closed his eyes and again sent his gratitudes to the Headmaster and to the Professor... and vowed to make them all proud.

  


He smiled to himself, and opening his eyes, he pulled out an already dog-eared textbook from his rucksack to read in between watching the passing scenery.

Opening the text to the bookmarked page, Remus eased into the familiar comfort of solitude.

  


* * *

  


JAMES.

  


  


James looked up from laughing at Peter’s entertaining impression of a particular group of Slytherins that had even the Heir Black clutching at his seams (the plump boy was surprisingly good- Malfoy’s angry screech on getting dungbombed was on _point_ )- to check if the teary-eyed girl sitting across them had begun smiling as well.

She had not.

Instead she was now arguing with a sallow-faced, reedy boy who must have had slipped into his compartment while he was busy laughing at Peter’s masterful impressions.

James noted that apart from the sallow look, the new boy had an extraordinarily large hooked nose. It made him look particularly beaky when sitting next to the girl who was –er, alright, James thought- his eyes taking her in.

She almost resembled the forest nymphs he saw at Mills’ Magical Circus last summer. Hair shining bright like pennies, soft grass green eyes, and slender, dainty look.

There was something about her, that made his heart do an odd somersault in his chest.

  


" _So she's my sister!"_ the girl proclaimed angrily to the sallow-faced boy, her green eyes flashing angrily. 

James blinked. 

He had never seen eyes so beautiful... The green of it shone brilliantly like bottle glass in sunlight, especially right now- when she was angry.

"She's only a-" the boy caught himself quickly; and the girl, too busy trying to wipe her eyes discreetly, did not appear to have heard him.

James felt his eyes narrow at the boy’s tone- _She was only a -what?_

"But we're going!" the boy resumed saying in a happy voice, blatantly changing tracks. "This is it! We're off to _Hogwarts!_ " the boy said with a grin.

James noted that even smiling didn't improve the boys looks much.

The girl nodded, mopping her eyes, and apparently in spite of herself, she half smiled.

  


_She had a really nice smile._ James stared at her, and then immediately felt his cheeks warm.

_Well, she was alright... when she wasn’t all mopping,_ _ofcourse_.

James glanced at the new boy and tried to mentally project (testing again if he had suddenly developed powers like his cousin): " _Good job mate, got the woman to stop weeping-"_

"You'd better be in Slytherin," the hook-nosed boy cheerfully broke into his attempt at telepathic communication.

James’ thought processes came to a screeching halt. 

_Excuse me? What_?! Why on _earth_ should she be in _Slytherin?!_

"Slytherin?!"

  


As the girl’s brilliant green eyes turned to him in surprise, James became suddenly aware that he _might have_ blurted his thoughts out loud. 

But his embarrassment only came third, because- first: he was again enraptured by her eyes- for Godric, the shade of her eyes were the exact colour of his sunlit quidditch yard back at home. Maybe she _was_ some kind of forest nymph.

Second: James noted next that Sirius Black was watching him with a sharp gaze, so he willed back the beginnings of a blush at blurting out his thoughts, and called up all his bravado.

"Who wants to be in _Slytherin?_ I think I'd rather leave, wouldn't you?" he asked his mates cockily.

Peter immediately nodded with great feeling, but Sirius- 

Sirius did not smile at all.

In fact, his eyes darkened a shade instead.

  


"My whole family have been in Slytherin," Sirius stated flatly.

  


_Oh crumbs._ James thought, mentally slapping a hand to his forehead, _Now I've really put my feet in it._ And he really wanted to be mates with this boy too. _Okay, quick! Damage control!_

_"Blimey."_ breathed James in exaggerated surprise, complete with a hand clutching imaginary pearls, and gaping at Heir _Black._ "You dont say! And here I was thinking you seemed all right."

Sirius grinned, just as James expected. 

James gave a mental cheer.

Sirius shrugged lazily. “Maybe I'll break the tradition… Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James felt his brows rise at Sirius’ nonchalantly spoken _outrageous_ statement. 

_He was so cool!_

But he had a question to answer, stat.

James lifted the imaginary sword of Godric Gryffindor into the air proudly, luxuriating in the feel of all eyes on him. "'Gryffindor! Where dwells the brave at heart!' Just like my dad." He informed his audience with a grin.

Sirius smiled with a corner of his mouth, grey eyes lost in thought...

…and the hook-nosed boy made a small disparaging noise across them.

James turned on him, and saw Sirius gaze sharpening on the boy as well. 

"Got a problem with that?" he demanded at the bloke.

"No," said the bloke, though his slight sneer said otherwise."If you'd rather be brawny than brainy--"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" interjected Sirius coldly.

James roared with laughter, feeling a swift wave of affection for his new mate – for was there a _cooler_ comeback? And that too -in his defence!

Even Peter was grinning amazedly at his side- gazing up at Black with the same reverential gaze with which he looked at James; but James found that he didn’t quite mind sharing Peter’s adoration with his new bestfriend.

  


The sallow-faced boy’s face had coloured up in anger.

The girl got up, looking rather flushed, and looked down her cute button nose at him and Sirius.

"Come on Severus, let's find another compartment." She said bossily, pulling the boy along.

"Oooooo..." James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice in sync; and Severus threw them a glare as he left. James couldn’t help try trip him, in retaliation.

"See ya, _Snivellus!_ " Sirius called mockingly, and Peter slammed the compartment door shut behind the girl and boy.

The cabin dissolved into boisterous laughter.

  


“Oh my days! _Snivellus!_ \- that was precious!” James exclaimed, wiping at the merry tears under his glasses.

He then replaced his circular glasses, and turned purposefully to his new bestmate.

“You are alright, Black… but there’s one last hurdle we need to cross before we swear our friendship to each other for eternity.” He informed, eyes dancing. 

Sirius looked faintly surprised, then oddly- suspicious. 

"Eternal friendship?... In exhange for what?" The dark haired boy asked him, a chill in his voice. "State your terms." 

James exchanged a surprised look with Peter. 

"Er, terms?" he asked, confused the olive toned boy.

"Yes... Everyone seeks something from us Blacks." Sirius said coolly, propping his legs up on the recently vacated seats across. "So, why do you want friendship with me? What is it that you seek? _State your terms_." he said in a tone of command, his grey eyes flinty.

_Ah_... Now he understood what the bloke was on about. 

How utterly- Black- of him, for lack of a better adjective. James had a sudden flashback of Aunt Dory negotiating around the horde of publishers hounding her for a book deal.

James cocked his head at Heir Black, eyes crinkling as he suppressed his mirth, and feigned thinking it over. 

"Hmm...you know, I'd like a packet of that fancy dungbombs in your pocket... and a hundred chocolate frog cards- each one _unique_ , mind you; and a...." James looked at ceiling for inspiration, and his face lit up. "And a _life time supply of treacle tarts!_ Yes!!! _Treacle tarts!_ For _eternity_. Think you can manage all that?"

  


Sirius Black gave him a look.

How peculiar. James was quite familiar with that look.

He got _that look_ many times from strangers... And frequently, from his aunt and friends. 

It was that particular _look,_ which said: 

_Shall I let St. Mungo's know they are missing a barmy inmate_ _??_

How odd.

James had never understood _why_.

  


"...Is that all?" Black quirker a brow at him. "That's easier to settle than putting in a good word to Father about _Roftang conspiracy_ , or asking Mother to attend Greengrass' soiree, or aquiring a Wizengamot seat for Eliana Flint's persian... Don't ask me why."

James stared at Sirius, before bursting into laughter. "Oh mate, you are more like my Aunt Dory than I previously thought."

"Excuse me?" Sirius sputtered, quickly indignant. "Pray explain how I resemble an old lady this instant!"

James snickered. "Don't let her catch you saying that. She'd string you upside down by _toe nails._ And I didn't mean by looks, obviously... Though you _do_ share the same eye colour. A Black family trait, I presume? My cousins have got the same eye colour too... But I digress. I meant- the mindset you both share. Is that another family trait? Always suspecting others of having ulterior motives?" James asked, his eyes dancing.

Sirius looked back at him flatly. "Is it a family trait for Potters to yap alot?"

James snorted. "If you mean are we more social, then why, _yes_."

Sirius rolled his eyes, those grey eyes loosing some of its hard edges. "We are not antisocial- just selectively social. There are circles within circles that one should only mingle with. I'd try explaining Mother's concepts of propriety to you, but it's all terribly boring, and possibly _stupid_. But everyone _do_ have ulterior motives _."_ he said lounging back. "You just have to give them time, and you'll figure it all out soon."

James shook his head at the boy, smiling to himself. 

Apparently paranoia _was_ a Black family trait.

Black had spoken with a tone of certainty... but to James it sounded more like a tone of quoting someone, and less like a tone of personal conviction. 

"Nah, mate. That's the _Slytherin'_ s way of thinking." James informed. "We Gryffs never play dirty;- we call it what it is and leave it like that. We are always honest and straightforward, bold and daring. We dont do ulteeior motives." James met Black's gaze, his gaze clear and bold. 

"And I would like to be your bestfriend- 'coz we _sync..._ We share a mutual admiration of a good prank, and a mutual hatred of slimy gits. So why on _earth_ shouldn't we be mates?"

Sirius blinked at him, looking as if someone had bludger-ed him between his eyes. He blinked again, then asked slowly. "You want to be my - my _bestfriend_ \- _because_ I dungbombed Lucius Malfoy?" He asked incredulously.

James beamed, happy that his newmate was finally getting on with the idea. 

"Yes! Is there a _better_ reason?" James asked with a grin.

Sirius stared at him. 

"That's not the usual response I get." The young heir remarked, tone wondering.

Sirius raised his eyes to meet his gaze, a new glint in shining in his eyes.

"Well if that's all that you want, then go on then, state your last Herculian hurdle, me Lord." he drawled poshly, lounging back on his seat. "Let's then swear an Unbreakable vow upon it, draw a charter declaring our eternal friendship _in blood_ and whatnot.” 

"Bl-blood?" Peter immediately spluttered, his face blanching. "Is that necessary? I mean, can't we just spit on it, or something? Just an idea though..." he mumbled meekly.

James grinned at Black, loving his idea. 

"Nah, we'll swear it on blood. _That's_ more befitting. You've got yourself a deal, Black."

Sirius' lips curled up in a smile.

James stood straighter and levelled Sirius with his best 'serious' expression. It was a momentous occasion after all. 

“It’s nothing but a question.” James announced his audience loftily, before pointing a warning finger at Sirius- “But it’s the make-or-break kind, so you must _swear_ to answer it honestly." James met Sirius' gaze, " _Honestly-_ like a true Gryff.” 

He watched Sirius hesitate for a second, before those grey eyes hardened resolutely. 

“Fire away.” Black drawled with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Lounged back and face looking bored, he was the picture of chill...

... to anyone who did not know Blacks intimately.

It was remarkable how much Sirius' eyes were less like Aunt Dory's closed-off cool gaze, and more like his cousin Liz's. Sirius had expressive grey eyes like James' cousin. You can read all the emotions off them ( _if_ you know them well enough), despite the blank mask they donned. 

Coming back to the present, James saw that Black's eyes had become less tumoultous, and became more certain. But there was something like wariness, under that challenging gaze.

Black's eyes looked how Eddie's eyes looked when James dared him to see which of them would scale the ancient holly in their orchard first. 

And Eddie might have been right to be wary. He did end up with a broken arm, and had sat glaring daggers at him while Ma forced that disgusting potion down his throat. (As if he had got off scot free! Ma did make pinch his ear in chastisement, and his ear was red for _an hour!)_

Right now even Peter was looking nervous as he watched on;- which was stupid, because Peter had undergone the same procedure before James adopted him as his new "minion"... and hence should’ve known what’s coming.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him in inquiry at the drawn out suspense, twirling wand casually in one hand in the mean time.

James took a deep breath, his face turning uncharacteristically sober, and met Sirius' gaze.

  


**“Are the _infamous._ _unparalleled._ _legendary._ Ballycastle Bats, your team or _not?”_**

* * *

  


  


LILY.

  


  


“ **WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVEN’T SEEN QUIDDITCH?!!** ”- came a muffled exclamation from somewhere behind them as Lily lead Severus down the carriage- looking for a free compartment in vain, while fuming and being incandescently angry.

“ _Never_ have I _ever_ seen a gang of such rude, impertinent young boys!” she declared. “How dare they- oh, here Sev, this one’s free- excuse me, but are these seats taken?”

Lily asked the lone curly-haired boy in a turtle-neck sweater curled up against the window-pane with a book.

  


The boy startled and glanced up at her loud entry, and Lily blinked in shock at the long scars that ran down the side of his face, but quickly averted her startled gaze as the boy pinked under her impolite gawping.

The boy hurriedly removed his legs from the seat, and swiftly turned to a side, hiding his scars from their line of sight. “Oh. Um, I mean, yes, they’re free. Please feel free to take a seat, if you’d like to.” the boy stuttered nervously, not quite meeting their eyes. A full blown blush was rising in his face now.

“Thank you.” Lily said graciously, and subtly elbowed Sev in case he was also impolitely gawping at the boy.

  


She took the window-seat opposite to the strange boy. Sev gave her a glare for the elbow jab, but followed her to the seat, throwing a wary look at the other boy.

  


The boy was still pink in his face, and had buried his head in his book again. The black sweater he wore was lovely, if a bit frayed, but still an odd garment to wear this early in autumn. There wasn'teven a chill in the breeze. Lily peered curiously at the title of thebook he was reading. 

Oh, the _Defense for Beginners!_ That one had some really wicked spells like-

  


Sev sniffed disdainfully, drawing her attention back to him. “Well you can’t expect anything less from Gryffindors.” he said with a curl of lips- referring to the boys they had just met. “They are all just plain brutes and pigeon-brained pillocks.”

Lily frowned at the rather crude description. “Sev! That's rather rude; and the text- _Hogwarts: A History_ describes Gryffindor as the house of the Brave; the ones who does what’s honourable and remains loyal to the end. That isn't so terrible. Just because a few of them were rude doesn’t mean the whole house’s rotten, Sev.”

Sev shrugged, looking cross. “You know what they say about rotten apples... And that’s just the way things here are between Slytherins and Gryffindors, Lily.” 

Lily flinched a little at that. At how Sev had, unwittingly, made her feel _ignorant_.

There were many things about the Wix world that she didn’t know, or _couldn’t_ _understand_ ….and all that made her feel uncomfortable with being on the back foot. 

Sev's occasional impatience with her not knowing the basic things, sometimes made her feel like an idiot.

And Lily Evans was _not_ an idiot.

  


It bolstered her determination to learn all about the Wix world at the earliest. She had read there was a really impressive library at Hogwarts (purportedly the second best in Britain!) and she could barely wait to see it, and read everything!

Sev continued talking through her inner resolution making monologue. 

“Slytherins and Gryffindors shall _never_ get along. How can we ever tolerate Gryffindors who lack even the _ability to think_ before leaping? Idiots, the lot of them. Brave and chivalrous, _my arse_. I tell you Lily, if you want to have any class, to earn _any respect_ in the wix society- you must become a Slytherin. _That’s_ where the power is. No Gryffindor ever became anything noteworthy.” he scoffed.

Lily frowned.

“That’s not true-" Lily broke off on seeing that she and the tawny haired boy had spoken up at the same time, saying the exact same words.

Lily looked at the boy in surprise- who had begun blushing all over again and looked like he was wishing to melt into the shadows. 

But the boy cleared his throat, and sheepishly apologised. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but-“

“Intention means nothing after a crime is committed,” Severus muttered sourly.

Lily sent him a look.

_Crime?_

“- er, you are right. It was impolite of me to do so, and I am genuinely sorry.” The boy apologised earnestly to them. “...but what you said is factually incorrect. There are many notable Gryffindors throughout history- from Sir Archibald the Great, to the war hero Theseus Scamander, to our Headmaster Albus-“

“- Albus Dumbledore, who defeated the evil Grindelwald! I know!” Lily exclaimed with a delighted grin - having found one another student who knew their history.

She realised only a second later that she had also interrupted him in her eagerness. “Um, sorry for interrupting you. I am Lily Evans, a pleasure to meet you.” she extended her hand eagerly to him with a sheepish smile.

The boy blinked in surprise at the offered hand, and then at them- looking a tiny bit lost. Lily’s heart immediately went out for him- he looked like he didn't know how to deal with an offered hand of friendship. Maybe he was as lonely as she had been, before she made friends with Sev.

Not many muggles wanted their kids to hang around with a girl who was said to make things fly or make dead flowers bloom again. So all she had was Tuney and a feeling of something was inherently _wrong_ with her- till she met Sev and he explained all abou magic and witches and wizards to her. 

So she kept her hand determinedly raised between her and the new boy; a soft, encouraging smile on her face.

The boy chewed his lip in worry, then slowly, but surely, reached across to shake her hand. Lily beamed. 

“Remus, Remus Lupin, and the pleasure is all mine, miss.” he said softly.

Lily smiled wider at his odd way of talking -like she heard in those classic movies and old novels- and at his curious name, and was about to enquire after it when Sev made another minute scoff at her side.

She turned to him with a surprised look, and found him eyeing the boy in distaste. 

She frowned slightly at Sev, communicating silently- _don’t be rude._

Sev huffed and crossed his arms in response.

Lily frowned at him, puzzled over the way he was acting, before mentally shrugging it off and turning back to Remus.

She was looking forward to making wix friends, and this boy sure was interesting. And she was oddly feeling protective of this nerdy polite kid across her, 

“I gather you are a first year as well?” she asked him, nodding to the book, encouraging small talk to make him comfortable. “Have you tried any of the spells yet?”

Remus nodded awkwardly. “Yes, on both counts. But I just tried a couple of basic spells though, nothing fancy.”

_Wicked!_

Lily opened her mouth to eagerly ask which spells, when Sev snidely muttered _“Show-off.”_

She turned to gave him a shocked look. 

W _hy are you acting up?_

Sev just glared outside, ignoring her.

Lily turned back to Remus, a little embarrassed by the way her friend was acting. 

Remus was again pink in his face, and was quickly retreating back to his book- Like a shy turtle to its shell.

“That sounds wonderful,” she said sincerely, trying to draw the boy out, “I hadn’t tried any yet- had to make sure my method was correct. Besides, we aren't supposed to practice magic outside Hogwarts, I was told. But we did try out a few potions though, that was fun.” Lily said glancing back at Sev- who straightened up a little on hearing that. 

Lily hid a smile.

“Potions..." Remus said with a worried frown. "With all the precise measurements and minute details, it really sounds tricky. I muck up even making a toast at home, so I’m afraid I’ll be quite terrible at it.” 

Sev huffed up angrily at that. “Potions is nothing like cooking!" he snapped. "And one'll find that, for a well-organised mind, the art of Potion making is _remarkably_ easy.” 

Remus coloured faintly at the veiled insult.

Lily cringed. As much as Sev spoke the literal truth, he could come off a little -brash, to other people.

“He means that if you follow the recipe precisely, you have nothing to worry about.” Lily quickly said, trying to smooth over things. “Remus, this is my bestfriend Severus, who goes by Sev. He helped me study the basics of potion making. And I believe that if you get the basics right, then the rest of it comes together real easy. You needn't worry much- just focus on getting the basics right."

Remus considered that. "Thank you. I will start focusing on that then." he said with a small nod of thanks, before hesitating, and turning towards Sev. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” he said with an awkward wave.

Lily was now sure that the boy did not have many friends back home. He was too hesitant and (endearingly) awkward around even just them.

“A pleasure.” Sev drawled back in a bored voice- like an uppity gentleman.

Lily sent him a puzzled frown.

He gave her a glare in return, wordlessly saying– _don't push me to socialise._

Lily rolled her eyes at his huffy act, and refrained from remarking that he greatly reminded her of the disagreeable Mary Lennox of The Secret Garden at the moment. 

She doubted he would take kindly to her comparing him with a muggle character, much less a _girl_.

Then Sev pulled out a tattered copy of Potions for Beginners and put on the air of reading - determinedly giving a ‘ _Don’t-bother-me’_ vibe.

_Really now?_

Lily glared at him, exasperated.

But Sev ignored her.

Remus just gave them a curious look, before quickly retreating to his book, looking like he’d rather not surface again.

A turtle turned determinedly back into its shell.

Lily suddenly realised she was left alone to herself.

_Brilliant. Just brilliant._

_Boys._

She’d show them!

If only she had something to read as well...

But sadly, her luggage was still in the other compartment. Lily realised belatedly that she had forgotten to retrieve it in her dramatic exit with Sev... and now she’d rather not go back and collect it while those rude boys were still there.

Lily heaved sighed to herself, and looked out at the rolling hills. 

_This was going to be one long train ride._

Suddenly there was a tinkle of bells outside the compartment, and a smiling, dimpled woman slid open their door.

“Anything off the cart, dears?”

Lily brightened, and leapt to her feet. 

“Yes, please!”

  


* * *

  


  


THE SORTING.

  


  


Lily felt goosebumps arise, as she followed the rest of her year-mates into the Great Hall. Her lips parted in surprise as she took in the majestic hall.

  


Lily had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Lily looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

She gaped in awe.

She knew that the sky was bewitched to look like the sky outside; she had read it in _Hogwarts: A History._

But it was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens.

Stars twinkled brightly at her like diamonds against the velvety blackness of night sky. The moon was delicately adorned by a shawl of wispy clouds.

  


She turned in glee to grin at Severus- all fights forgotten, and found him already looking back at her with glittering black eyes.

He grinned back; and then nodded his head towards the front. 

She looked forwards -and saw the famed Sorting Hat sitting atop a stool.

  


Lily doubtfully eyed the tattered old hat as they came to a halt.

Severus did tell her that the hat was what sorted them- since being forewarned was forearmed;—but _how_ a _hat_ can sort them, he didn’t know either.

She found nothing about how the Quill of Acceptance, the Book of Admittance or the Sorting Hat worked in any of the books she read either... Maybe she could find something on it at the Hogwarts Library...

  


"Welcome, my dear friends!" boomed a friendly voice.

_Dumbledore!_ \- Lily recognized the distinguished Wizard, with great excitement.

He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a maroon cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

She had heard about the great wizard from Severus, and read a great deal about him in her background readings. She was looking forward to meeting the famed wizard.

She listened earnestly to the Headmaster's short but warm welcome speech; and frowned at the odd choice of words at the end- " _fipple! kerfuffle! smicker! xertz!"._

She was distracted from deciphering the meaning of the words by a loud snickering from behind.

She turned to find that it was from the two black-haired boys who had bothered her and Severus in the train.

  


Now they were damp from head to foot- having tipped over their boat in an attempt to high-five a Giant Squid or something, she heard.

How _stupid._

She narrowed her eyes at them, but they kept grinning and talking in carrying whispers obliviously.

  


“Five knuts say we’ll have to fight a troll, Petey.” The brown-skinned, black-haired boy with specs said excitedly.

“A troll?” scoffed the other dark-haired boy, the one who looked posh. “That’s _elementary_. I bet it is a Boggart. Just keep your eyes on those huge doors across, Pettigrew. When those open, your worst nightmare will materialise- _right infront of you._ You'd have to battle it to get sorted.” He drawled in a sombre tone.

_How ridiculous._

_And what’s a boggart?-_ Lily wondered _._

“Bog-boggart??” A pudgy boy standing beside them stuttered, looking terrified. He was also damp from head to toe, and looked about to pass out.

The two black-haired boys grinned to each other mischievously behind the poor lad's back.

Oh, what a rotten thing to do, tricking people like that!- Lily frowned at them with disapproval.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat at front.

Lily turned her back on them pointedly, feeling her ponytail swing satisfactorily as she did; and resumed to watch the podium.

  


Professor McGonagall, having attained the entire Hall’s attention, approached the battered brown hat and gave it a smart tap with her wand.

To Lily's surprise- the hat gave a shiver, its torn brim opened wide… and it began to _sing!_

  


"Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,

But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)

For I’m a Thinking Cap!"

  


After the tongue-in-cheek song ended to a thunderous applause, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat delicately- effectively quieting the large hall, and started summoning the first-years to be sorted.

  


Lily felt her hands go clammy again- wondering where she will get sorted.

Slytherin like Sev? But Ravenclaw sounded cooler... Each house were wonderful in their own way, really. Her dad, had he ever got sorted, would definitely have been a Hufflepuff. Mum –probably a Gryffindor. And...

Suddenly Lily’s fanciful thoughts got sidetracked by another chilling thought- _What if she wasn’t chosen at all?_

What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall took it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she’d better get back on the train?

_No, she was a witch. She could do magic! Of course she will be placed!'_ Lily reassured herself anxiously, twisting fingers into her robe sleeves unconsciously as she waited for her turn- eyes trained on the sorting.

  


“Adams, Isabella!” -became their first Hufflepuff,

“Bennett, Nate!”- their first Ravenclaw, and then -

“Black, Sirius!”

  


* * *

  


  


SIRIUS.

  


Sirius straightened up when his name was announced, and traded a look with James Potter.

Potter winked and gave him double thumbs-up with a confident grin.

Determination filled his heart. Sirius tipped his hat to Potter, and swaggered forwards to the stool... faking a confidence he didn't feel.

  


A wave of whispers had gone through the Hall at his name, and dread swirled in the pit of his stomach. He had to do everything he had to keep his mask in place- and not look like he might sick up any moment.

Sirius took a subtle bolstering breath. 

_He had sworn his alliance... And there was no way in hell he'd share a dorm with the likes of Snivellus._ Sirius eyed the tattered hat with determination.

_He had to play his cards right._

Sirius sauntered to the stool where destiny awaited for him.

  


  


The dirty hat dropped over his eyes.

  


Sirius suppressed a disgusted shiver- his hair will need a wash after this.

_Think of all the dandruff and ancient hair grease it must have accumulated over the ages!_

Sirius paled. _What if it has head lice?!!!_

“Ah. How delightful. Another _Black_.” The hat’s voice said in his mind, impressively managing to sound haughty for a piece of rag.

“A pleasure.” Sirius drawled back.

The hat sniffed disdainfully. 

Sirius was _really_ impressed by the charms on the ancient thing. It must be some Legilimency charm built into it for it to get over his occlumency walls. "I have half a mind to take you apart and study. ...No offense, of course.” he added as an after-thought.

“ _Of course_.” the hat huffed. “Compliments veiled as insults, and a wicked mind to boot. I know _just_ where to place- “

_“_ Not Slytherin.”

There was a sudden silence in his mind. “I beg your pardon?” the hat asked in surprise.

“ _Not Slytherin_.” Sirius reiterated firmly.

“…Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your blood, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that –“

“Place me in Gryffindor.” Sirius ordered it, skipping all the niceties and beating-around-the-bush part of conversations. He never had any patience for those- something which his Mother always criticized.

The hat laughed in surprise. “Oho, ordering me around, are you tyke?”

Sirius scowled at being called ‘ _tyke._ ’ _Him_ , the Heir of Blacks! _The bloody cheek of that rag!_

“ _Excuse you.”_ He snapped back.

But the hat ignored him. “Let’s see- hmmm. Talented. Mind as sharp as a flint, I see... And on second thoughts, not a bad heart either. Plenty of courage. Very protective. Loyal to a fault. That stubbornness could be your vice- that burning desire to prove one’s mettle, to live in own terms. And there’s that -”

Sirius gritted his teeth, his tolerance for hearing superfluous praises depleting for the day. “Now listen to me you piece of rag- Hufflepuffs are a bunch of pansies- that's _clearly_ not me; Ravenclaws are a bunch of swots- and while I appreciate academics, I'm not _that_ fond of musty old books; and Slytherin... let's just say I don't have time for convoluted political games. So just place me in Gryffindor this instant, or I’ll toss you in the nearest cauldron of fire.” he said, an edge of steel creeping into his voice.

“…and _there’s_ that streak of Gryffindor recklessness, mixed with Slytherin ruthlessness.” the hat chuckled. “You sure are one interesting Black, lad. Very well, if you’re sure, ...better be ---

Sirius closed his eyes- sending a prayer to Merlin and Morgana and Circe and -

  


"GRYFFINDOR!”

  


Sirius heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. His eyes snapped open.

  


_He had done it!_

_He had pulled it off!_

  


_He had made it to Gryffindor!!!_

  


Shocked elation filled him as he reveled in the stunt he had just pulled.... hence he was oblivious to the shocked gasps that rang in the background.

A surprised looking Professor McGonagall raised the hat off his head.

_“YES!”_ came a victorious yell from the unsorted group of first-years, and Sirius turned to see Potter pumping a fist into the air, a wide grin on his face.

  


The hall suddenly broke into a cacophony of loud whispers and exclamations, and Sirius became suddenly aware of the attention he was getting. He clenched his fists, willing back a flush as thousand eyes gawped at him incredulously, and he looked back at the world defiantly. 

  


Suddenly, two red headed twins stood up at the Gryffindor table, and began to _applaud. “We got a Black!"_ They whooped gleefully at the Slytherins, clapping loudly and cheering. "We got _Heir Black!”_

Sirius brightened upon recognizing his paternal cousins- the Prewett twins.

  


The surrounding Gryffindors followed the twins’ lead like the loyal bunch they are, and joined in the celebration readily and racuously amidst the sea of whispers.

  


_Merlin's beard... he had really done it._ _He had actually pulled it off!_ Sirius thought with a thrill.

  


But speaking of cousins..... Sirius saw Andy drop her head into her hands at the Slytherin table, Cissa looking appalled at her side.

  


“ _Prewetts!_ Get off the benches!” Professor McGonagall called over the din, before turning her frown upon him- as if _he_ was responsible. 

“Off you go.” she instructed, shooing him towards her table- where the Prewett twins were still giving him a standing ovation with wide grins.

As he neared the red clad table, someone from the other side of hall yelled out venomously-

“BLOODTRAITER!”

Sirius froze in his tracks at the word- the euphoria in him draining as quickly as blood drained from his face. The image of Mother's angry face sprang up before his eyes… and Father's chilling last order thundered in his mind- _"Do us proud in Slytherin."_

Oh Salazar...

  


_“Oi!” -_ a distant corner of his mind registered Potter yelling angrily in reply.

  


"ORDER!" thundered the Headmaster, rising to his feet.

The hall suddenly hushed.

The Headmaster's severe blue eyes swept over the crowd of students- from one side of the hall to the other- commanding their attention with a mere look. "Slurs pertaining to blood or colour are not tolerated in this school. Anyone who is heard to indulge in such foul language will serve a week's worth of detention, loose a hundred housepoints, or _both_. Be warned." Professor Dumbledore boomed, sending an uncharacteristically severe look around the Hall, before he resumed his seat.

That turned the cacophony in the hall to just hushed whisperings.

  


Sirius knew he was pale and rooted to the spot- and a Black couldn't afford to show weakness, and-

He started as a large hand grasped his shoulder.

“Here, cousin.” Gideon Prewett said, pulling him to the seat beside him, all the while glowering at the Slytherins.

“Fucking Avery.” Fabian Prewett glared daggers at the Slytherin. “One more slur, and I will make sure that moron won’t know his bloody head from his arse.“ he vowed darkly.

“Not that there was much of a difference in the first place.” Gideon winked to Sirius, trying to lighten the mood.

He smirked back feebly.

“Or that he’ll _know_." Fabian sorrowfully agreed -making Sirius snort despite himself.

Fabian turned to him with a faint smirk.

“Some surprise you are." Fabian remarked, studying him interestedly. "...Never had I seen Dumbledore get so riled up. He almost sounded like he was not on pot!"

Gideon snorted. "It's _Dumbledore_. One will never know."

"True, true. I just wish we could figure out where he has hidden his stash." Fabian turned back to find Sirius listening in curiously. "Not that we care!... Don't breath a word about this to our mum, you hear?"

Sirius raised a brow at his piss poor attempt to intimidate. They were Gryffindors after all, he shouldn't expect more. "What word?" he asked with a doe-eyed gaze.

"Atta boy." Fabian smiled approvingly. "...Know any good curses, coz?”

Sirius blinked at the abrupt question.

“Learnt from the very best.” he assured him cockily.

The sorting had resumed in the meantime, taking away some of the glaring eyes trained on his back.

“Good. Uou’ll need them.” Gideon murmured. “Us Lions will defend our pack to death, but the chain is only as strong as its weakest link.”

_Spoken like a Slytherin_ , Sirius thought. _Aunt Lucretia will be proud_.

“I’ll show you weak.” he growled back.

“Oh?” Gideon arched a mocking eyebrow at him, before grinning sunnily. “Always knew you weren’t a bad egg, coz.”

Sirius huffed, hiding a pleased smile. “ 'Not a bad egg'. Such _glowing_ commendation! Colour me overwhelmed.”

The twins burst into laughter, and Sirius smirked in surprise, pleased with the response. He'd only have got reprimands for cheeky comment back at home. Only Andy and Reggie enjoyed his _bon mots_.

  


The twins gradually sobered, and lowered their heads towards him conspiratorially.

“But really," Gideon said in a lowered voice, casting an eye around to make sure there weren't overheard. "You need to keep you wits and wand about you at all times. Being a Black, you know how certain- er, convictions, are held strongly by your family? You will find here that not many of those "convictions" are quite entertained here... especially in Gryffindor."

Sirius frowned uncomprehendingly at them at that, and Gideon exchanged an uneasy glance with his twin, before explaining- "What I mean is, in the recent past Blacks have taken quite a rather stringent conservative stand on many a political matter... most of which are not very popular in Gryffindor. Or in Ravenclaws. Or- well, anywhere outside the elite Slytherin circles, really.... And as much as Molly likes to pretend otherwise, we-” Gideon gestured to himself and his twin, “-have Black's blood as much as we have Prewett's; and many people here- even at _this_ table, do not -um, _see us in favourable light,_ because of that. So-"

“-So watch your back, ‘cause it wont be just Slytherin twats who will give you trouble.” Fabian finished his brother's sentence darkly, his blue-grey eyes flat and serious.

  


_Spoken bluntly like Gryffindors._

  


Sirius turned their puzzling warning over in his mind.

_What political stance?... And why would them Blacks be unpopular? That's quite absurd. They were the best of the very best;- the crème de la crème of the wizarding nobility._

Sirius determined to broach the topic to Mother later... then inwardly cringed at the thought of Mother... At the "consequences" that would be undoubtedly waiting for their heir's unprecedented choice of House.

He quickly cut off that harrowing line of thoughts.

  


“Worry not, cousins.” He assured his cousins with a cocky grin, and quoted his Father studiously- “No one has raised a wand at a Black and slept peacefully. So they'll think twice about getting on the wrong end of my wand.”

But instead of looking assured, Fabian’s eyes darkened.

Gideon shot a silencing look at Fabian before turning back to him, eyes grave. “Yes, and _darling Bella_ had already drilled that lesson into many heads here, so you know why most people aren't exactly keen on Blacks... Just don’t go _asking_ for trouble, yeah?” Gideon asked delicately.

_That, he could understand crystal clear._

His mood soured at the mention of his maternal eldest cousin.

_She sure left a legacy wherever she went. And as chockfull it was of brilliant accomplishments, it was just as _dark_ and stained with tears, if not blood. _Sirius grimly remembered his last birthday...

  


“If someone picks a fight with him, I say they had it coming.” Fabian disagreed with his twin, snapping Sirius out of his dark thoughts. “And we’ve got your back, alright coz?” Fabian ruffled his hair- making Sirius yelp and slap his hands away.

“ -even if some _others_ may not.” Gideon frowned over Sirius' head at the opposite side of Hall.

Sirius turned to find Andy talking to Cissa in hushed whispers, and Cissa -upon catching his eyes- gave him a withering glare.

Sirius promptly stuck out his tongue at her.

  


“Oh, forget those slimy blue-bloods.” Fabian threw an exuberant hand across his shoulder, and turned him back to the table. “ _This,_ cousin _,_ is where the party is.” Fabian grinned, gesturing broadly to the raucous Gryffindor table as another sorted Gryffindor.

  


Sirius looked around the colourful and boisterous Gryffindor table- where everyone wore their hearts on their sleeves proudly ---- and back to the calmly dignified, masked and posing crowd of Slytherins- where no one trusted anyone... and The Knights ruled everyone. 

He found himself cheering up considerably. 

Sirius joined in clapping as a red-haired girl joined him at their table.

  


  


* * *

  


  


LILY.

  


  


The hat fell covering Lily's eyes from the chattering hall.

  


"Hello Ms. Evans."

She gasped in surprise as a voice filled her ears. _It talks to us!_

"Yes, I read minds too." chuckled the hat. "And you are right again- only the sortee can hear my voice'"

Lily bit her lip, scrambling to think of a polite way to greet a sentient hat- but failing to find a proper one. _Greetings oh Sentient Hat? Goodevening, Mr. Talking Hat?...._ It was rather an unanticipated occasion.

"Oho, a polite and a cheeky one!" chuckled the voice happily, "I appreciate that. The last kid cursed something foul a hat should never repeat in its grand old life!" it laughed.

Lily smiled uncertainly, softly blushing.

"Don't you worry, little witch, the well wishes I see in your heart is enough for me to be content with. Now where to place you missy? You look like one tricky hat-stall! I see an ocean of kindness in you. Gifted and industrious- could be Slytherin or Hufflepuff quality... And there’s an eagerness to learn- a rather Ravenclaw-ish mind. Yes…. But, oh! you are a fiery one, aren't you! Certainly got a smart mouth on you, lass. Not afraid to speak your mind, eh?" the hat teased.

Lily blushed again, her fingers twisting into her robe sleeves anxiously.

The hat murmured to itself, "Plenty of courage, I see. Not one that gives up quickly, or gives in. Certainly has the potential to change the world one day- for good or bad, only time will tell....”

Lily felt her heart thump harder in her chest at that. _What's that supposed to mean?_

“Hmmm, so where to place you, missy?" mused the hat.

  


"Better be....."

  


Lily felt her breath catch in her throat in the drawn out suspense-

  


  


"GRYFFINDOR!"

  


  


A loud ring of applause went through the air, and with a relieved sigh Lily pulled off the hat and hopped off the stool with a pleased grin. Brave, honorable and loyal it is.

She started towards the red draped table with a wide beam as the people applauding for her;

...but suddenly paused, her stomach dropping to somewhere around her ankles.

  


Oh gosh. _Sev._

  


She glanced back at the waiting queue, and found Severus looking back at her agape- looking shocked and crestfallen.

  


Lily uncertainly gave him a small wave –dearly wishing that he was okay that she was in his so-called "rival" house… She didn’t want to lose her bestfriend. Her _only_ friend.

  


To her relief, he slowly nodded back to her, wordlessly saying - _alright, we'll figure this out_.

Lily felt her grin return, and she nodded back happily. And with that immense relief she turned back towards her new house table- eager to see what adventures lay before her.

  


* * *

  


  


  


Lily grinned as she had her hand shaken in congratulations by the Prefects, and then a pair of red-headed twins… but her smile dimmed as Sirius Black extended his hand to her.

She looked at his hand mistrustfully before gingerly shaking it.

“Black, charmed to meet you.” The boy grinned charmingly.

That made Lily more mistrustful of him. “Evans, a pleasure to meet you as well.” She said doubtfully.

Black cocked his head, surveying her; - seemingly having forgotten their encounter in train. “Evans… a relation of Gwilym Evans? The famous Dragonzoologist?“

_There’s Dragon-zoologists? As in actual dragons?_ Lily thought with surprise.

She shook her head in answer. “Afraid not. I am a muggleborn, you see.” she said.

The chatter around them suddenly lulled at her declaration.

Lily looked around at the sudden silence, a blush rising on her cheeks as she thought she had inadvertently made some social blunder- before realising that all eyes were not trained on her, but on _Black._

On Black- who seemed to have frozen at her words....

... but then his eyes lit up with interest.

“Really? That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, leaning forward and studying her with an odd look of curiosity. “You see, this is the first time I got to meet a mudb-” Black broke off with a pained grunt, and one of the red-haired twins reached over hastily offering her his hand again.

“Hello again, I just remembered I’ve failed to introduce myself, which was soo silly of me. I am Gideon Prewett, sixth-year, proud Gryffindor.” the twin rambled, pumping her hand enthusiastically. “And that’s my brother Fabian-”

The other twin broke off his furious whispering to a surprised-looking Black to give her a jaunty wave, before resuming his heated whispered conversation.

“And we extend our warmest welcome to you to Hogwarts!” Gideon continued, recapturing her attention, “If you face any difficulty- be it navigating the castle, or figuring out how to send home an owl, or find the way to classes, or find the way to the kitchen, or find library or-"

Lily listened on with faint bewilderment- getting a feeling that they were trying to confuse her in purpose.... But why, only Merlin knew.

“Pretty sure you encompassed all that under ‘ _navigating the castle’_ , Gid.” Fabian drily cut off his twin’s ramble .

Black was now frowning at the table, lost in thoughts.

“Right-O, brother mine." Gideon acceded, before turning back to her, "What I meant to say is- if you have _any_ trouble, just give a holler to- " Gideon looked down the table, " - _Alice_ over here." he said pulling a nearby girl out of her conversation-

“Our wonderful Fortescue, the young Prefect extraordinaire, and owner of the best ice-cream stall in all of Diagon’s!" Gideon introduced. "And _she_ will set you right in no time! She might even get you a discount at her dad’s!”

The brunette girl with cute bangs rolled her eyes at the twin’s antics, before turning those warm brown eyes to her.

“My first free pointer will be to ignore these prats always, Miss Evans.” She ignored Gideon’s indignant noise. “But do come to me if you have any trouble, I’ll be honoured to help in any way I can.”

Lily gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, and please- it’s just Lily.”

"Hello, and as introduced- I'm Alice." Alice shook her hand with a friendly smile. 

“So, _just Lily_ ,-” smiled Fabian, leaning across his twin, “Wh’re doth thee hail from, Lily flower?”

Gideon and Sirius groaned at that and Lily blushed.

Alice quickly rapped Fabian with a spoon. “No. flirting. with. first. years. Prewett! Honestly?! You are _foul!”_

“Hey!" Fabian yelped. "Woman! I was just _talking_!” Fabian pulled his twin infront of him to shield him from Alice’s sharp raps, making him yelp. “Oi Frank! Get your missus to stop assaulting us!”

Alice Fortescue drew back with a bright blush.

A honey-blond haired boy sitting next to her looked up at the address with a startled expression - obviously having missed out on whatever was happening.

But a soft smile brightened his face on seeing the blush on Alice’s face, and he propped his chin on her shoulder to look at the twins. “Whatever she’s assaulting you for, I’m sure it’s well deserved, Fab.” He grinned.

Fabian pressed a hand to his heart with a look of mock-offense. “Et tu, Brute? My _own_ blood!” he cried dramatically (and ignored Black dryly remarking that the relation was _distant)_ , “The _hurt!_ ”

The blond laughed softly at the theatrics, and then his light eyes fell upon Black.

“Sirius.” he greeted evenly.

Black’s eyebrows rose a fraction, before he looked nonchalant again. “Frank.” He greeted back in a level tone.

Lily felt there was some tension between them. Well, on Black’s side, atleast.

The twins were watching the conversation with amused expressions.

“Lord Black won’t be pleased.” Frank replied with a thoughtful nod;-- like remarking ‘ _the weather sure was nice’._

Even Lily knew that was a faux paus. Proving her right, everyone around them tensed.

Black’s jaw clenched, as Fabian hurriedly gestured to Frank to shut up.

“Oh? I hadn’t realised.” Black drawled back coolly at Frank. He then pointedly turned his back on them, and resumed watching the sorting with a crossed expression.

_Wow... He was some temperamental fellow._

Fabian had face-palmed himself. Frank simply looked around at them in honest befuddlement and Gideon sent him a mildly exasperated look.

“Timing?” Frank uncertainly asked Alice- who was looking at Black with a soft, concerned expression in her brown eyes.

Alice looked back at her boyfriend with a wry smile. “A bit, yeah.”

Frank deflated, and Alice turned to pat his back consolingly.

  


Lily looked from one person to the other curiously- feeling left out of one intricate loop.

But no one seemed inclined to let her in the loop.

She frowned in displeasure at being kept in dark...so she tried to piece together all that she had heard and observed.

  


Outside Gryffindor table, Black’s sorting seemed to be an unpopular one.

She had heard a few of her year-mates in the waiting queue comment that it was _preposterous that Black sorted anywhere else but Slytherin,_ and that it was _suspicious_. And then there was a word uttered like a slur- _Purists._ And then that other word- _Bloodtraitor_.

Curious insults.

She wondered what it all meant… She’d have to ask Sev later.

All in all, Lily concluded that Sirius Black being in Gryffindor wasn’t what was expected, and according to Frank and the rest - that his folks back home won’t be pleased.

But, just as she told Sev- the houses all were equally meritorious, so she couldn’t see what the fuss was all about.

  


Black was still glaring ahead, and others seemed engaged in their own conversations.

With a soft sigh, she also turned back to watch the sorting; and waited nervously for her bestfriend to get sorted.

She watched Sev hang back behind the gaggle of unsorted students, and worried her lip…

He looked so _alone_.

If only he too sorted Gryffindor…… but she knew that Sev would _never_ want that.

  


So she heaved a sigh, and waited for his turn.

...

  


  


She was delighted when Remus Lupin joined her at Gryffindor.

He thanked her dazedly when she congratulated him, and fell into the seat beside her ...with a still disbelieving look in his face.

She empathized with his shocked-and-marvelling look. 

_Hogwarts._

So she left him to assimilate in his own time, and returned to watch the sorting.

_..._

  


  


She clapped happily when a girl sorted Gryffindor next. She was a chubby blonde with a bouncing bob and bright blue eyes behind spectacles, who smiled brightly upon getting sorted and then ran into the arms of the Gryffindor Prefect. The Prefect- a blond guy, laughed and caught her in a bear hug, before dropping her into the seat beside Lily.

The girl smiled shyly to her. “Hi, I’m Marlene McKinnon, but everyone calls me Marls, so you can too.”

“Hello, I’m Lily.” Lily smile at her warmly as she shook her hand.

“Quite thrilling, isn’t it?” Marlene smiled, looking around them with shining blue eyes, “I mean hearing about it is one thing, but to experience it in person… It’s just amazing as you said, Marc!” she beamed to the Prefect.

The guy grinned back, “Wait till you see the feast, poppet.”

“Lily, this is my brother- Marcus." Marlene introduced with a grin.

Marcus gave Lily an agreeable nod, "Her fourth eldest brother, to be exact. This here's our little princess." he said tapping his sister’s nose fondly.

Marlene swatted away his hand, but she was smiling happily.

  


Lily smiled at the sweet exchange between siblings, ...missing Tuney acutely in her heart. But she was still angry at the way she had lashed out at her.

Maybe, she could send her a chocolate frog in lieu of a peace treaty? Those tasted delicious, and the accompanying card with moving picture on it would make her jaw drop. Lily decided to send one with her letter home right away.

...

They were soon joined by another Gryffindor girl- Dorcas Meadowes.

  


Dorcas was a bubbly, dark-skinned girl with a cute Afro.

"Hey y'all!" she greeted, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "This place is unbelievable! I cant believe there are actual ghosts here! I love Hopkirk, but these ghosts are way cooler. Look at that one in chains!" she marvelled.

Lily beamed, even as everyone looked at Dorcas in confusion.

_She was a muggleborn!_ _Just like her!_

"Yes, they are more like actual phantoms than Hopkirk." Lily agreed eagerly, "That one with the chains particularly reminded me of Sir Simon, from the Canterville ghost." 

"Who, the Bloody Baron?" Marlene asked distractedly, watching the floating ghosts out of the corner of her eyes. "I don't know if his first name is Simon. I heard he murdered his lady love, and hence wears those chains in penance... They are all quite scary, aren't they?" 

Lily watched with wide eyes as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, their Gryffindor ghost, eased his head from his neck- like uncorking a wine bottle, complete with a pop- inorder to relieve his phantom 'neck-cramp'. But - _oh_. So that's why the twins called him _Nearly_ Headless Nick.

Marlene gave a repelled shudder, squeezing her eyes shut, faintly looking green.

"Wicked." Dorcas breathed, eyes wide and fascinated, not a touch of revulsion in her countenance.

Lily nodded, suppressing a shudder- thinking how it would feel to be stuck like that for an eternity. "Wicked, and unsettling." 

  


  


...

  


  


Black beat them in greeting the next Gryffindor- Peter Pettigrew, the pudgy boy who hung with Black and the spectacled boy. Lily looked at the boy- still green around the gills, already forgotten about the prank the boys had pulled on him before sorting, and was currently bathing in Black’s approval. She doubted he was the right sort either.

  


...

  


  


  


“That’s him!”

  


Lily looked up from her conversation with the girls when Pettigrew squeaked excitedly. Beside him, Black was sitting still like a statue- watching the dais with rapt attention.

  


She turned towards the dais -and found the bespectacled boy amble cockily to the stool, an excited grin on his face.

  


“Go James! _”_ Marlene cheered happily at her side.

Lily gave Marlene a surprised look. _Does everyone know everyone around here?_

Black had also turned to give Marlene a surprised look, but he turned back to watch the sorting like clockwork.

"We are childhood friends." Marlene explained to her, watching the sorting anxiously, "My brother Miles was at Hogwarts with his cousin, and they were chums... Oh, I do hope he gets sorted Gryffindor or I'll be terribly bored here."

"Gee, thanks sis." Marcus said sarcastically, but he was also watching the sorting with interest.

"Oh, you know what I mean." Marlene said distractedly. "Quoting James- It's not a party till _he_ gets here." 

Marcus shook his head, an indulgent smile on his face, "That does sound like him, that cocky little squid." 

Fabian swiftly turned to Frank, reaching out a hand, palm up. “A galleon says that one's a Gryff.”

Frank looked taken aback by the sudden challenge, but Alice snorted, putting her hand over Frank’s. “Please. Only a fool will take that bet. The Potters have always sorted Gryffindor, and this one will sort the same.”

“But what if he doesn't?” Gideon asked, leaning across conspiratorially. “You see, tonight is shaping to be quite an unpredictable one;... A night of breaking traditions. So what if this one is a 'Claw? Or a 'Puff?"

Alice’s eyes flicked to Black- who had stiffened at the words- and then back to the cocky boy hopping on to the stool, and shook her head dismissively.

“Atleast you didn't say _Slytherin.._. Nah, James is just like Liz- he’s as Gryffindor as we come. I'll bet _you_ a galleon he's a Gryff.”

Fabian grouchily pulled back, and Alice smiled back smugly.

  


Lily looked around and found that most of the upper-years around her was watching the boy with fond expressions, and felt faintly annoyed. 

_Was he famous or something? That would explain the attitude._

Lily crossed her fingers under the table, and wished against the popular consensus. _Merlin,_ _please let him be sorted into some other house other than mine…_

Black- she could manage to ignore if she must; but dealing with _both_ of them? She’ll thank you _not_.

  


But her fanciful wishing was incredibly short-lived.

  


The Sorting Hat had _barely_ touched the boy’s messy head before it shouted –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

  


Lily gave a soft groan in defeat.

_Wonderful._

_Probably the hat got pricked by that messy hair and blurted out the first word that occurred to it._

  


Potter whooped from the dais- closely mirrored by Black at their table, before the Gryffindors erupted into loud cheers and claps. Lily clapped along sullenly.

Potter jogged down to their table with a brilliant, sunny grin on his brown face.

"He looks cute." Dorcas whispered lowly, still clapping.

Lily shot her a grossed out look. _Honestly? Ew._

"Who, James?" Marlene asked, her nose scrunched in disagreement. "That's not the first word I'd use to describe him. He may be my bestfriend, but he's quite a menace. Oh. _Please_ don't ever tell him I said that." Marlene implored with blue eyes wide, looking guilty.

Lily shrugged and nodded. _She had no intention to talk to Potter in the near future, anyway. Not unless he apologised for his unruly conduct on train._

On reaching the table Potter quickly grabbed Pettigrew in a chokehold and began ruffling his hair furiously in happiness. Marlene laughed and ruffled Potter’s hair in turn, while Pettigrew giggled and tried to squirm out of Potter’s grip.

Black watched the lot of them with glittering eyes and a grin, and high-fived Potter when he turned to him. As one, the boys collapsed into their seats- laughing boisterously at some inside joke.

Marcus tried to bring the rowdy boys under control, but he was smiling as well, and wasn’t trying very hard.

  


  


"'Lo, Marcus!" Potter high-fived Marcus with a grin, "Guys, meet Marcus, our perfect Prefect!" he introduced to the first year boys.

“Oi!" Marcus frowned, "Quit referring to me as that. The joke has got old over the summer, you prat.” 

“Oh never!" Potter exclaimed. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, Marc, I can stop doing that." he offered, hazel-eyes keen.

"Yes! Please do." Marcus said with relief.

Potter grinned and saluted... but with a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. "Aye, aye, Marcus, our _grumbly Grinch_ , sir!"

_"James!”_ Marcus scolded with a flush, as everyone dissolved into laughter. 

Marlene and Dorcas were giggling beside her. Lily rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, to see the day the Perfect McKinnon get knocked down from his high horse... Did that hurt, bruv?” Gideon laughed at Marcus.

“And that too by a teeny firstie! Now I can die in peace.” Fabian grinned. “Potter, do you know all of the Mckinnons? Have you got any dirt on our darling Miles? I hear it on grapevine he's got a bit bigheaded as the Portree’s new player. Ooh! better yet- how about dear _Maxwell_?”

“Please dont encourage him.” Marcus sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Oh lots in all counts, I'd bet.” Marlene said underbreath with a smile, watching on amusedly. And, sure enough, Potter cockily echoed her words the next moment.

"Upon Miles and Max?" Potter asked. "There's _only_ dirt. But I'll give you a little ammo only upon one condition.” Potter paused, raising a finger in emphasis. "...I get the front seat when all hell breaks loose."

The twins laughed.

“You are a gem, kid.” Gideon grinned, fist-bumping Potter.

Potter beamed proudly.

Marcus heaved a heavy sigh, apparently resigning to his fate.

Lily sympathized with him. _Menace, sounded like a perfect description of one Mr. James Potter._

  


Her eyes drew back to Sev, and she found herself suddenly ardently wishing-

  


_Please sort Gryffindor too._

  


  


  


  


  



	5. The Gryffindor Tower

JAMES.

He and the boys were still laughing at the odd school song and the poltergeist pelting Ravenclaw first years with scones, when the Prefects came to a halt before a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

“Oh, hello lovelies!” the woman beamed, tipping her wine glass to them.

“Everyone,” Alice Fortesque said, “I introduce to you Lady Margaret Balfour, the famed witch of Orkney. You will learn more about her in the History of Magic lessons.”

“She is also the acclaimed guardian of our Gryffindor tower, and a _great_ opera enthusiast.” Marcus added with a smile, which oddly didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, phish!” Lady Balfour swatted at him with her shawl, beaming. “You are such a sweet talker, dear.” She batted her long eyelashes in Marcus’ direction.

_Oh?_

James turned in amusement to see Marlene looking wide-eyed, and grinned.

_This ought to be fun._

James elbowed Marcus. “I thought you said her name was Fat Lady?” he asked innocently, in a carrying whisper.

The Fat Lady gasped.

“James!” Marlene exclaimed in chorus with her brother, their blue eyes wide.

The kids behind them started giggling.

Marcus whirled back to the portrait, holding his hands up- “I swear I said no such thing!”

“It must have been Miles – or, or Max!” Marcus defended himself to the indignant portrait, “I’d never call you- er, that, my Lady, you are only a tad voluptuous–“

The Fat Lady gasped louder, clutching at her pearl necklace.

“ _Voluptuous?_ Oh, you _idiot_.” Marlene breathed beside him, horrified, just as Fortesque quickly stepped on Marcus’ toes to stop him from _further_ putting his foot in his mouth.

Sirius began sniggering beside him, and James had to hide a grin as well.

Marlene turned to pin him with an exasperated look.

“What?” James sniggered.

“You are quite diabolical, Jamie.” Marlene said, trying to look disapproving.

“Ouch. A bit harsh that, Marlikkins... I'm rather partial to the term 'menace' myself, much more befitting a description.” James grinned cheekily. “And don't you frown at me, little witch. You again forgot about that dimple of yours that always gives you away. Sorry to inform you, but you are quite as _diabolical_ as myself, sweetums.”

Marlene was one of his best and oldest of friends- they practically grew up together. From the first prank on her stuck-up brother Miles(in which she helped), to the latest Frankenstein experiment, Marlene knew of or took part in his 'diabolical' plans. She even encouraged some of those- especially when it targeted one of her brothers who had irked her.

And the advantage of having a childhood friend was that- you could always read them like an open book.

Marlene stuck out her tongue at him, and turned away linking her arms with her new friend, trying and failing to hide her grin.

James grinned, pleased.

Sirius looked amused by the exchange.

However, the red-head whom Marlene had befriended, was frowning at him disapprovingly. 

Oh. She was the green-eyed girl from the train! 

Now _that_ was a clear look of disapproval.

James winked at her charmingly, before turning back to watch the drama unfold.

Honestly, he had only ever heard the portrait referred to as the Fat Lady before.

And he was only rescuing Marcus from the immoral-viles of a foxy portrait!

His causes were just.

“I’m sure it was some wild miscommunication, Lady Balfour.” Fortesque was saying to the portrait with a pacifying smile, “Besides, plus size is _totally_ in vogue these days –”

“Oh no.” Marlene moaned softly beside him, which James took to mean- another faux-paus.

Funny, he had thought that had been a reassuring compliment. _Girls_. He mentally shrugged.

As Marlene feared, the Fat Lady sputtered incoherently at them in anger, before downing her wine in one go. “Password!” she shrilled at them, her face now the colour of puce.

Fortesque sighed defeatedly. “Fortes fortuna adiuvat.”

The portrait slammed open with an angry bang, revealing a round hole of entrance behind.

“Wha- that’s the password?!” Peter exclaimed, aghast. “I’ll never remember that!”

James shrugged carelessly as he sniggered at a flushed Marcus, “Don't worry. Someone will be with you mate, I’m sure one of us will remember.”

Fortesque gave Marcus a pitying look as she helped the girls climb up the hole, “Bad luck, Marc. You better sweet-talk back into her graces before the weekend's change of passwords, or it will be a _nightmare_. Remember the last incident with Prewetts?” she affected a shudder.

Marcus groaned, shoulders slumping in resignation. “Great. Now I have to go search the castle for Viola and her vat of sherry.” he grumbled, before turning to glare at James.

Marcus turned to them, and pointed a warning finger at him as James gave him a sunny grin. “ _You_ , mister, stop causing me trouble.”

“Oh, I’m sure James will do that,-” Marlene smiled angelically as she climbed inside, “-just as I’m sure nifflers will stop stealing shiny things.”

She turned to send an impish grin over her shoulder. “By the way Marc, did you tell mamma you had a _voluptuous_ girlfriend?”

She quickly ducked inside, laughing, as Marcus lunged for her.

James elbowed Sirius. “See? _Diabolical_.”

 _“You two.”_ Marcus grumbled, rubbing his temples, and living upto his lovingly anointed name as their grumbly Grinch. “I wish Liz was still here- she’d have known how to keep you two in line.”

James patted the newly minted, and frankly overwhelmed looking Prefect on his back consolingly. “Oh, chin up, mate! You will learn the ropes of it soon, Marc. I’m sure.”

Marcus lowered his hands and gave James a rueful smile. “No thanks to you, I bet.”

“See- bang on! You’re already learning!” James beamed.

Marcus chuckled lowly, and turned to see the remaining boys watching on amusedly. “Well, don’t dally now! Climb in you lot.” he waved them in a little impatiently.

“Such _warm_ welcome.” Sirius remarked drolly as he climbed in, making James grin as he followed.

“Fortes fortuna adiuvat...” Remus Lupin intoned behind him in the dark, as they passed through a short, narrow tunnel. “I wonder what it means.” James heard him wonder quietly, as if to himself.

James frowned, trying to translate the words with his grasp of rudimentary Latin- but the answer came promptly from ahead, in Sirius' cool drawl- “Fortune favours the brave!” 

"...As a Gryffindor password? Who would've thought.” Remus murmured sarcastically underbreath, amused by the translated words.

Remus had said underbreath to himself, but James was close enough to hear it, and he turned to shoot the boy an amused grin at the dry commentary.

“Impressive. You know Latin?” Marcus called to Sirius, bringing up the rear with a panting, flushed Peter.

“Among other things.” Sirius drawled distractedly, before jumping off the tunnel into the room before.

“ _Blimey._ ” James heard him whisper.

James hopped down, and on straightening, found himself in the famed Gryffindor Common Room.

James gawped in silent awe.

It was a large, double ceilinged, round room- with long stained-glass windows, many squashy armchairs, a comfy tartan sofa set, and a huge round table in the middle.

A bulletin board hung to their immediate left. Besides that, the stone walls had scarlet tapestries depicting famous Gryffindors or pivotal moments in history. There were bookcases lining the room- the books arranged without rhyme or reason within them.

The room was lit by wall scones and the light from a large fireplace adorned with a real-life size lion’s statue. The overall look was cosy, warm, and relaxing.

The stone lion stood watching over them, and as the last person entered, it shook its mane majestically, and then lowered its head to them- A regal bow in welcome.

James felt goosebumps rise on his skin.

Sirius was watching the lion with a captivated look.

But what captivated James even more was the mural on the wall opposite.

There, framed by two stone staircases, stood Godric Gryffindor the brave - slaying a Hydra. The famous moving mural; of which the exact replica hung in his room, back home.

James felt a sudden rush of feelings as he stared at the mural; Pride. Happiness. Exhilaration. A feeling of _rightness_. 

A feeling of being- _home_.

“Blimey.” James breathed, agreeing with Sirius.

Fortesque directed the girls through the left staircase to their dormitory, and Marcus led the boys through the other.

Near the top of a spiral staircase they found their dorm – a circular room with four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up.

“Oh, that's soo soft!” Peter marvelled, admiring the velvet curtains. "That's posh."

James sighed happily as he fell into the bed closest to the windows.

Sirius dropped his robes on the bed opposite to his, and strode towards the windows.

“Go ahead. Take your pick.” James heard Remus say to Peter politely.

“Thanks mate.” Peter chirped, before climbing into the bed next to James and sending him a grinning thumbs-up.

James winked at him chummily, returning the gesture.

“Great food, innit?” Peter sighed, sinking into his pillows.

“Oh? I really couldn’t tell." James smirked. "You were _barely_ picking at it.”

He had been amazed and amused by how fast the boy had been stuffing himself with food at the feast.

“Oh, piss off!” Peter squeaked in defense, blushing. “I was hungry after the bloody long train ride!”

James rolled to his side and pinned him with an incredulous look. “You ate _five_ pumpkin pasties on the way. Five! And _language_ , Pete.”

“Shut up.” Peter mumbled, cheeks flushing. “I’m a growing boy.”

James snorted and fell back in his bed, and grinned at the velveteen canopy.

“Godric! I can’t believe we’re finally here! I can hardly stay still!” he exclaimed. 

He had to do something. Sleep was for the weak. Sure he was knackered after the long train ride and the cracking feast, but he was at _Hogwarts!_ At last!

James shot up in his bed and looked around the dorm excitedly, his magic buzzing to do something.

Remus was kneeling beside his trunk, unpacking. Things were already sorted into tidy piles- textbooks, parchments, books, school robes, pyjamas, some more books, casual wear, and still more books…

_My word, did the bloke live off books?_

James knew his trunk contained more snacks and Zonko’s tricks than books for sure.

James watched the firelight play across Remus’ side profile, lighting up a set of messy scars running down the side of his face, and bit his lip from blurting out the questions milling in his mind.

Whatever happened, it must have been something terrible… And he had seen that Remus was incredibly self-conscious of the scars- blushing and shrinking into himself when he had foolishly stared at the scars in shock when they met.

Shrinking into himself… like he was doing now.

James quickly averted his gaze, and began undoing his shoe laces. “Hey, Lupin! You watch Quidditch?”

“Er, occasionally on telly, yes.” Remus replied hesitantly, “Da loves the Bats.”

James beamed at him. “The man has excellent taste! What about you? Who’s your favourite team?”

Remus hesitated, gathering his toiletries. “I myself am not terribly keen on sports, but I guess Bats, Magpies and Harpies are pretty decent teams.”

Sirius was roaming around the dorm curiously, tapping his wand on various objects- apparently checking the enchantments on stuff, from the wall-scones to bed-posts. He intently studied the bed-hangings for some time, before going back to the windows.

James pointed a finger at Remus, eyebrows raised to emphasize, “Harpies are quite decent, but Bats are the best. _Always_ Bats over Magpies.”

“If you say so.” Remus nodded agreeably. “Do excuse me.” he murmured rising to his feet and headed to the loo.

James turned to Peter. “Atleast _he_ has got good taste in Quidditch. I mean, _Puddlemere_ , honestly Pete?”

“They have catchy songs!” Peter defended, then rolled on his bed towards James. “But I guess Bats _are_ the best.”

“Ha! Without a doubt!” James huffed.

Peter looked nervously in Remus’ direction as he disappeared into the loo. “…he is kind of scary, innit?” Peter muttered. “Gives me them jitters.”

James scoffed at Peter.

“Gryffindors don’t get _jitters_. We are the house of the brave, Pete. Act like it!”

Peter coloured at the chastisement.

“Besides,” James continued, kicking his shoes off his feet, and across the floor to somewhere, “He isn’t scary at all. He is just one timid fellow. Hardly said a word at the feast. And there’s nothing to be frightened about a couple of scars. Here, even I’ve got some!” James pulled off his right sock and shoved his foot under Peter’s nose. “See?"

“Argh! What is it?!” Peter shrunk back at the sight of the angry looking scar. Sirius turned from the windows to see what’s going on.

“Just a stupid gnome bite.” James grouched at the memory. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I make you the next Frankenstein's monster, Mr.Gnome!” James waved a fist at the imaginary cackling gnome.

“Franken- what?” Sirius asked with interest.

James waved a hand, “Just an odd looking ghoul. Muggles think they invented it. I’ve been trying to recreate the muggle experiment last week to see if it will work, when the stupid gnome bit my toe and made a dashing escape!”

Sirius laughed. “Rotten luck, mate.”

“I’ll catch it another time. ‘Tis never too late to make a minion!” James declared, before turning back to Peter, “So you see, there’s nothing to be afraid of. A scar's just some stupid thing.”

Peter hesitated, before nodding determinedly. “Alright, nothing to be afraid of. Okay.”

“That’s the spirit!” James reached over and ruffled his hair happily, satisfied that he had quelled the fears of a friend. Just as a Gryffindor was supposed to do.

He turned back to Sirius with a smile.

“I still can’t believe you made it here, mate! I mean, of course you were a blooming Lion through and through – you dungbombed a carriage full of Slytherin fifth years! But, you know, you being well- um, _you,_ I was afraid it might be a given.”

Sirius tilted his head in facsimile of a shrug, but looked pleased at being called a Lion. “What’s life without a little change?”

“And a little fun.” James added, grinning.

Sirius tipped him his imaginary hat in agreement.

“But... how did you do it?” Peter asked Sirius in wonder.

Sirius shrugged carelessly, tucking his hands inside his trouser pockets, and examined the floor for a long moment.

It was beginning to look like he wasn’t going to answer their question, when he finally reluctantly murmured- “I may have informed the hat that I was willing to –check its incendiary potential, if it didn’t comply.”

James took a moment to piece that together- and promptly burst into laughter. “That was _wicked,_ mate! Just brilliant!”

Peter chuckled hesitantly beside him, sounding a bit odd.

Sirius smirked slightly, his posture relaxing at their response.

“...I don’t get it. The _what_ potential now?” Peter asked him in a carrying whisper.

“Incendiary- as in combustibility.” came a voice from behind, and James turned to see Remus standing at the doorway in his pyjamas, robes neatly folded in hand, and eyeing Sirius thoughtfully.

Sirius looked back with a challenging look.

Remus averted his gaze. “Um, it’s the ability to create fire.” he explained further at Peter’s still confused look, moving on to deposit his robes in laundry basket.

“Oh, right.” Peter acknowledged with a slight frown. “So, you told the hat you’d-… ?” Peter frowned at Sirius in confusion.

Sirius rolled his eyes at him. “I said I’d chuck it in the fire if it didn’t place me in Gryffindor.” he stated bluntly.

Peter snorted with laughter, James collapsed into another fit of sniggers. Remus ducked his head, hiding a smile as he climbed into his bed.

“You got some bollocks, mate.” Peter beamed at Sirius, before turning towards to James, “He sorted right, innit?”

Sirius grinned, eyes glittering silver.

“ _Pete!_ ” James gasped, about to admonish Peter on his crass language, when a loud tapping came from the windows, and Sirius shot back a foot in surprise.

His wand was trained at the windows the next moment.

James also shot up in his bed, and squinted at the window- ...at the silhouette of something dark, crouching on the window-sill outside.

No, not crouching- _perching_.

“Oh, hey! It’s an owl!” James proclaimed to the room at large.

And indeed it was. A pitch black horned owl sat upon the window sill, looking back with golden eyes.

It tapped on the pane impatiently, but Sirius was simply standing staring at the bird- rooted to the spot, so James hopped down from his bed.

“What’s the matter? Haven’t you seen an owl before?” James called to Sirius over shoulder as he made his way towards the windows. “But who’d sent an owl this late? This isn’t one of-"

A hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist and tugged him back from the windows.

 _"Don’t!_ That's no simple owl.” Sirius said in a whisper, staring at the bird with an expression of mild horror. “…It is the devil itself.”

James scoffed at that.

But the hand holding his was cold, and a little clammy?

Sirius looked very pale.

James looked back at the owl, and saw that it was quite _glaring_ at them- its eyes narrowed on them angrily, the gold of its eyes glowing eerily in the moonlight.

James frowned, eyeing in warily.

“What is it?” Remus asked softly, coming to their side to see what’s happening.

“What did he mean de-devil?” Peter stammered, cowering behind James, latching on to his free hand.

“It’s not, he was just exaggerating. It’s just a-” James jumped as the angry tap came again, and Peter squeaked in fright.

Sirius was still rooted to the spot, staring at the owl.

“Oh for Godric’s sake!” James shook off their holds impatiently. “Look, it’s just an owl with a mail! And aren't we Gryffindors?!”

He met each of their gazes. Remus looked cautious but curious. Peter looked downright terrified. Sirius was still staring at the bird unblinkingly, apprehensively.

James gentled his voice, “So why don’t we go see why it’s here, alright?”

Sirius blinked, and straightened up. “Alright. Just- just let me go get it, Potter.” he said, “…It’s Alistair, my Mother's owl. He doesn't take well to strangers.” He muttered, reluctantly stepping forwards.

“Oh.” James said, falling back, giving him space.

_Why would he call his mum's owl_ devil? 

He looked towards Remus- but he was just watching on curiously.

James looked back, and watched with an odd trepidation as Sirius opened the window pane. The owl hooted menacingly, and Peter’s hand was back clutching at his sleeve.

James refrained from scolding Peter for being a scaredy-cat, because, to be fair, the owl _was_ a tad spooky.

It was a huge dark bird- all black plumed, with sharp talons and glowering golden gaze.

It looked ready to attack… ready to tear someone into ribbons.

“On second thoughts, I think 'devil' wasn’t that odd an adjective.” Remus murmured, warily eyeing the glowering owl.

James nodded uneasily in agreement, as Sirius untied the letter from the owl's talons with nimble fingers.

...was it the moonlight dancing, or were Sirius’ fingers trembling?

Just as Sirius freed the letter, the owl let out an ear-splitting shriek, making Peter shriek back in fright, James to startle, and Sirius to curse out aloud.

In the resulting confusion, the menacing bird was gone with a powerful flap of wings, and Sirius was left standing alone in the moonlight, clutching his hand, the letter at his feet, and black drops falling into it.

James heard Remus gag and rush to the loo, right before he slowly realised that the black drops were dripping from Sirius’ hand... and it wasn’t really black drops as it appeared in the pale moonlight- but red.

Red drops... falling at an alarming speed. _Blood_.

“Crikey!” James cursed as he rushed to his side, and pulled Sirius’ hand towards him.

 _Dang_ , the bird had pecked quite deep.

“I’m fine!” Sirius snapped, trying to tug back his bleeding hand.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re bleeding!” James argued, tugging the arm back to him, and pressing down on the wound. He turned to look around the dorm wildly. “Pete! Get a hankie! A clean one!”

Peter looked about to pass out, but thankfully he immediately rushed to fetch one.

“Here.” Peter squeaked, pressing a hankie to him with trembling fingers.

“Don't worry, my ma's a medi-witch, so I know my way around basic healing stuff. Oh crumbs, we haven’t got any dittany.” James cursed as he wrapped the cloth quickly over the wound, while Sirius stood stockstill.

Sirius shook his head vehemently. “No. No dittany. I am not supposed– I can’t have any.”

James frowned at him as he secured the temporary bandage, “Why? Are you allergic?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, I - can’t. I just can’t.” He said nothing more.

James grew impatient. “Look, if you don’t have any allergy, we are going to use the dittany, or the wound will keep bleeding and scar later.” he explained urgently. “But I don’t have any at hand, so we’ll have to go find-“

“I might have some.” Remus croaked from the loo, interrupting him. “Dittany. It’s in my trunk. In a medi-kit. I- just, I’m so sorry, but I can’t- I can’t stand the sight of blood.” he apologised earnestly.

“That’s alright, mate.” James called back, relieved. “Stay right where you are, Pete can get it for us.”

Peter nodded emphatically, and immediately followed Remus’ instructions in fetching a little bottle from his trunk.

He looked at Sirius. “It’ll quickly heal the cut, but I must say- it stings real nasty. So, shall we?” he looked into Sirius’ eyes earnestly, asking for permission.

Sirius stood rigid for a moment, before nodding stiffly, his face blank but gaze troubled. “Alright.” he muttered.

James nodded and motioned Peter to go ahead.

“Here, Pete, pour a few drops- five will do, I think,” James said, furiously trying to recall what his ma used to say while healing cuts, as he gently angled the wounded hand towards Peter, “No, just three drops should do.” He quickly amended. “Alright? Careful.”

Peter nodded, uncorking the delicate bottle with stubby fingers, biting his tongue in concentration.

He winced in sympathy as the drops of dittany fell and smoked over the wound.

If it were him, he’d have been hollering in pain at this point; but Sirius barely moved a muscle. He didn’t even flinch at the sharp sting dittany undoubtedly had.

They watched with bated breath as the smoke slowly cleared.

James looked up at Sirius, “How do you feel?”

Sirius blinked, and looked down at his hand, gingerly flexed it, and exhaled a short breath.

“Terrific. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” he fetched the blood splattered letter from the floor, climbed into his bed, and promptly shut the curtains around him tight.

They stared in confusion at the abruptly closed hangings.

“…Not even a thankyou? That was rude.” Peter muttered, swiping a sleeve across his brows.

James tore his gaze away from the shut curtains and frowned down at Peter, “Shut it, Pete. Let’s not be petty now. He obviously has some more pressing issues at hand.”

Peter ducked his head down, and wiped his hands on his trousers, looking unexpectedly sullen.

James frowned. He hadn't meant to come off that harsh to the chubby boy.

He gentled his voice, "Hey, Pete? You did an excellent job there. You were wicked quick in getting that dittany on time. You know, - " James threw an arm around the short boy's shoulder, "- had it been anyone slower, Sirius might have even lost his entire arm!"

"You think?" Peter asked, looking up with a shy smile.

"I know so." James clapped him on the back. "Now let me go get this cleaned up. Why don't you help yourself to some Bertie Bott's? I think there's a packet of it somewhere in my trunk. I reckon we could all do with a midnight snack after that unexpected ordeal."

Peter grinned to him, all hard feelings forgiven, and hurried towards the aforementioned trunk.

James smiled and turned towards the loo.

As he entered, he saw that Remus was perched by the basin, looking a smidge pale.

“Is he alright?” Remus asked, quickly opening a tap for him.

James shrugged as he washed his hands under the open tap. “The cut should’ve healed by now... And thanks for the dittany, mate. It saved us a trip down to the infirmary at night. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure where it is in the first place.”

“That’s alright. Anytime.” Remus shrugged off, looking embarrassed.

James dried his hands on a towel, and eyed Remus, who was now frowning to himself, looking lost in thoughts. “You alright?”

Remus looked up in surprise. “Oh, yes... I just - I never could stand the sm- _sight_ of blood, much.” he said in a rush, then looked away, looking sheepish. “I must sound pretty lame, considering I’m in Gryffindor and all. Not supposed to be afraid of much are we?” he asked softly, his head ducked and scuffing his slipper on the floor morosely.

“Not really, mate.” James shrugged, balling up the towel and tossing it into the far away laundry basket. It landed bang on the mark. “Yes! Another goal for _James Potter!”_ he whooped, throwing his hands up in victory, before turning back to an amused looking Remus. “One day I'm going to be the youngest chaser in history! Watch me! ...But, I digress. As I was saying- my whole family belongs to Gryffindor. Generations and generations of it.” He said. “And my ma’s always afraid that dad will burn the house down if left to himself; my cousin Liz – though she will never admit- is a little scared of her own powers, when there’s no need to. She is just soo cool and amazing. My little cousin Eddie, he always climbs into my bed when there is a thunderstorm. He’s only seven but I’m sure he’ll make it to Gryffindor as well. Potter, ergo Lion and all that.”

Remus smiled faintly at that.

“So you see, being a Gryff doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid of anything…. And you may not believe it, but I,” James continued, gesturing to himself grandly, “Even _I_ am afraid of something. Wanna know what? But you have to promise me you will not tell anyone. Swear on it.” he demanded.

Remus looked surprised, before nodding. "I swear." he said seriously.

James considered him- but he just _knew_ from the look on Remus’ face that he was the sort of bloke you can trust with anything. That he was someone who took his promises seriously.

So James leaned forward, eyes grave, and confided in all of seriousness.

“ _Pigeon_.”

Remus blinked in surprise.

“Pigeon?...What did the poor bird ever do to you?”

James wagged a finger at him in admonishment. “Oi, you haven’t seen those nasty beasts at Derby! Red-eyed, feral little monsters! They look all cute and cooing in the distance, but once a poor boy’s broom’s on air - they come out of nowhere- as a _fleet_ , and attack you!”

Remus was laughing now.

James threw up his hands. “It’s no laughing matter! Why does everyone laugh! I was nearly pecked to _death_ , I tell you! I emerged from that attack- holding onto the last breath of life, all covered in feathers and I _shudder_ to think what else.”

Remus was now laughing uncontrollably.

James sighed, and let himself smile ruefully as he watched the boy laugh. “...that was one nightmare of a quidditch game.”

“I’d bet." Remus surfaced, gasping for air from laughing too hard, and looking considerably less peaky. There was even a healthy flush on him now from laughing. "Sorry for laughing, but do pardon me; I found it just the _teensiest_ bit hilarious."

James shook his head at him in admonition, hiding a smile.

The boy had an impressively wry sense of humour. And he was only just another boy- just another boy like any of them; scarred or not, shy or not.

“I tend to get that response everytime.” James sighed long sufferingly. “But one day, the world will acknowldge those beasts for the monsters they are, and I shall be avenged!... But you see, my point was- being a Gryffindor doesn’t mean you are never afraid. Having courage just means that you resist fear, that you… er, I forgot how it goes. It’s a muggle saying dad used to quote.” he said sheepishly, carding his fingers through his hair.

“ _Courage is the resistance to fear, the mastery of fear, not the absence of it_. Mark Twain.” Remus grinned, moss-green eyes shining.

“Yes! Exactly!” James beamed. “So… Remus Lupin, welcome to the house of Gryffindor,” he extended his hand to his fellow mate, “Where the brave shall dwell. Where we shall resist fear. Where we shall _master_ our fears.”

Remus stared at his offered hand in wonder mixed with something like trepidation, before quickly reaching and shaking it, a tentative smile on his face. “Thank you for that.”

“Anytime, mate.” James grinned clapping him on a shoulder encouragingly.

As they left the loo, Remus asked with a small smirk, “So, does that mean you are willing to face your fear of flying feather dusters now?”

James laughed in surprise. “Oh never! ...Well, maybe not right away. But one day for sure, yeah? _Someday_.”

Remus grinned, and James grinned back, glad he’d made a friend of this shy but witty boy.

"Fancy a Bertie Bott's anyone?" Peter called from his bed, holding up an opened box, "This one tastes like soap. I like it."

As everyone retired for bed and the lights finally dimmed, James sent one last worried glance at the closed curtains of the bed opposite, before he tucked under his own quilt.

* * *

SIRIUS.

The flames in the wall-scones went out as the last occupant of the dorm tucked in for the night. The only light in the dorm was the pale moonlight streaming in through the window next to him.

The letter lay crumpled in his fist.

It was not a howler from Mother, as he expected. Maybe one does need divinatory talents in the family to be able to predict the future.

It wasn’t a howler, no. It was much worse than that.

It was a letter from _Father_.

His blood stained the fine parchment. The letter held a single sentence. An ultimatum. 

_Cease this disgraceful charade and take up the mantle of Slytherin, or prepare immediately to leave for Durmstrangs._

The words repeated over and over in his mind in Orion’s cold furious voice.

Sirius dug his nails into his palms, using the pain to rid the burning in his chest and in the back of his eyes.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t _fair_ that Orion ordered him to choose; when he liked neither of the options given.

He _liked_ Gryffindor.

He looked at his healed hand and thought of Potter- who was really funny, dramatic, awesome and above all- oddly _caring_ ; he thought of the cool Prewett twins – who said he wasn’t a bad egg (by which they meant he was nothing like Bella, so he’d take that praise happily, meagre as it was) and were currently sent off to detention for hexing Avery’s pants to his face (which was wicked and hilarious).

He thought of the boisterous Gryffindor house during the feast.

He had never thought a place could be this full of fun, so full of life, sounds and laughter.

He then thought of the Slytherin table- where there was Andromeda’s conflicted look, Narcissa’s cold stare which promised him a stern talking-to at the earliest, Avery’s glare, all the hushed ridicule and mocking sneers aimed at him. A table full of constant posing, backstabbing and pulling strings under the table.

He didn’t want to be among them.

He liked it here, in Gryffindor- where the people wore their hearts on sleeve. Where people could be unapologetically be themselves, and hex someone’s pants to their faces if they annoyed you.

That was _infinitely_ much satisfying than carrying on as if nothing bothered you and plotting underhanded revenge for later.

He had a feeling that no one even cared he was Heir of the Black dynasty here. No one had addressed him by title yet. Nor had anyone simpered upto him at the Gryffindor table, which he considered a real improvement over the numerous parties he had attended in his life.

He felt _free_ like he had never felt in Gryffindor- free to be just himself, sans masks or posturing. To be relaxed.

And it wasn’t a _charade_ , as Father called it.

Sure, he threatened the hat to place him in Gryffindor- which was something a Slytherin may have done (and he was relieved no one here said so), but –Sirius remembered the hat’s long winded irritating musings- but the hat had ultimately placed him in Gryffindor on its own volition.

He belonged here.

He wanted to belong here.

And why on earth would he belonging to another house be _disgracing?_ Why would being a Gryffindor be dishonourable?

How could being courageous be an embarrassment?

Sirius punched his bed in his anger. The curtains suddenly flew back, and the window rattled loudly -in the flare of his distressed magic. 

He froze at the sound, his heart pounding.

He hadn't done accidental magic ever since he left nursery. Mother had trained him so. It was _tres vulgaire_ ; it was _unacceptable_.

...but Mother wasn’t here to punish him for that.

Sirius closed his eyes and began to take deep, even breaths- trying to settle his tumultuous core.

_Mother was not here._ \- he repeated to himself.

And she wouldn't know he had healed his hand.

Punishments, in Black household, were not to be healed - not until it had _sunk in_ properly. 

But Mother was not here, so he had let Potter heal him.

He didn't want to spend his first day at Hogwarts, and what looks like his _only day_ in Gryffindor- in pain.

He was suddenly thankful that he was not in Slytherin. No one could've been trusted to keep the embarrassing incident to themselves;- by morning all the old families would've learnt how disappointed Lord Black was with his heir... But he knew Potter wasn't like _them_. Potter can be trusted. So he will demand the rest of the boys to swear to secrecy the first thing in the morning. Right now, he was just grateful that everyone in his dorm was sound asleep- which saved him from being a further embarrassment to the name of Black.

Sirius dug his nails into his palms angrily. _Why should it bloody matter if he wore red or green?_

"Mate?" came a tentative whisper in the darkness.

His eyes snapped open.

 _Shite_.

Curtain rustled, and then soft footpads were approaching his bed.

Sirius dug his fingers into his palms and made sure his magic was under control, and the curtains hesitantly drew open, the foot end of his mattress unexpectedly dipping the next moment.

He wearily eyed the boy sitting by his foot, having planted himself without so much as a say so on his personal space. Potter sat with his face towards the bright moonlight, elbows braced on his knees, and contemplatively eyeing the window. Sirius braced himself for the upcoming ridicule. “You are lucky I didn’t hex the curtains tonight.” he informed the boy snappishly. “You’d have been cursed with spots. Or boils. Or _worse_.”

“Why would you hex the curtains?” Potter asked, looking at him curiously.

Bedsheets rustled in the bed next to his.

_Brilliant._ _More audience._

__

__

__Just _what he needed._

“One does in their dorms. For security purposes.” Sirius muttered angrily at the canopy.

“I’ve never heard anyone warding their beds before. Why? Are their thieves in Slytherin?” Potter continued asking curiously.

Sirius shrugged, and looked out through the windows, not in a mood to discuss Slytherin politics- which he might be soon subjected to; and waited for Potter to mock him.

He raised the walls of his mind in readiness against the barrage of ridicule.

Was Potter trying to making him suffer that more with prolonged silence? Making the horrible dread itself a punishment? 

That was one of Father’s favourite techniques.

Sirius dug his nails into his palms, clenching his jaw angrily.

"I know it's hard to hear," Potter began with a quiet voice, looking out the windows. "But being in a different house is not the end of the world, mate." Potter turned towards him, eyes keen, "It’s really alright. Lots of purebloods have their odd ducks!"

"James..." came a mildly reproving sigh from the bed behind them.

But Sirius was busy gaping at Potter, to take offence at being called an “odd duck”.

That was not what he expected to hear. He had been preparing himself for them to ridicule him for losing control of magic like an _infant_ …or for threatening the hat to place himself in Gryffindor, which was quite a Slytherin trick to be honest….

But instead Potter was _consoling_ him???

Potter cut a glance towards the source of the voice before returning his focus on him. "What I mean is- Agatha Cresswell was a terrific seeker! And she was a _Hufflepuff_ while all her whole family was Ravenclaws. So was Ferris Rowle- A 'Claw from a house full of Slytherins, and he even became our minister! What I mean to say is that, a house doesn't define or limit your future, mate... Only _you_ have the power to do that." Potter put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Sirius stared at the hand, feeling a lump rise in his throat.

"That's true." came the soft voice again, and Sirius turned to see Lupin sitting up in the bed next to his. "My mammau always said- _'What sets you apart can feel like a burden, but it's not. A lot of the time it's what makes you great._ " the boy said, his voice trailing into thoughts.

Silence reigned for a few moments as they mulled over the words, interrupted only by the steady snores coming from Pettigrew’s bed.

"It's just-," Sirius broke off to clear his croaky voice before beginning again in a smoother tone- "It's just that for half a millennia every single Black have sorted Slytherin. _The Blacks upholds the traditions and preserve the magic that has been entrusted upon us_." Sirius quoted his Father's words, "And anyone who has not honoured that- honoured the nobility, the purity of Black family magic, has been blasted off the family tree. Like- Phineas the second, Cedrella Black, Marius Black," Sirius chocked off the rant, and looked away, ashamed at himself for having revealed so much.

A Black should _never_ appear weak.

"Your cousin Cedrella just married into the Weasleys!"-Potter suddenly jumped off the bed, and began talking in an incensed tone, his hands wildly gesticulating. "I've never understood Aunt Dory explaining why the Blacks blasted them off the tree! There is nothing wrong with marrying for love, is there? And the Weasleys are a nice bunch, I've met them a couple of times! They are just –well a bit poor, but that's no way to judge someone!” Potter declared, “And I don't remember this Phineas bloke, but your Great-Uncle Marius..." Potter’s tone turned apologetic, but his eyes were still shining fierce, “Well, Aunt Dory said he was a – a squib, and hence got disowned… But you are nothing like that! You just sorted into a different house! And a better one at that, mind you." Potter grumbled. “They won’t blast you off the tree for that, Sirius! They can’t!”

Sirius stared at Potter in surprise; surprised that he knew so much of _his_ family history.

He had forgotten for a moment that his Great Aunt Dorea Black had married into the Potters; apparently- to James' uncle.

It was no surprise he forgot- the Blacks and the Potters never mingled, or even acknowledged each other in society if they could. It was said to be because of some big political disagreement between their families –probably because of Potters being pro-mudblood-rights and being contemptible or something- like Mother had described at the station.

But on meeting Heir Potter, Sirius had found no objection with him. He was funny, interesting and had a fantastic aim in throwing dungbomb at Malfoy, and was intelligent enough to set off flash-bombs as cover to make a dashing escape. He had decided to befriend the Heir right away. He figured Potters were noble enough family for Father to allow that friendship. Dorea Black had certainly not been stricken off the tree for marrying one.

Sirius looked down, and morosely picked at a thread on his blanket. “They wouldn’t. They most probably wouldn’t blast me off the tree, seeing that I am Heir Black and everything…. and if I choose Slytherin.”

“ _What?_ ” Potter asked aghast, frozen in his tracks.

Sirius looked up from the sheet and met his horrified gaze. “They want me to go to Slytherin, or-” Sirius glanced back down, and tugged at the thread with more force, “Or get carted off to bloody Durmstrangs.” he muttered moodily.

Potter gaped at him wordlessly for several moments in silence, before dropping back into his bed, a troubled frown on his face. Sirius glared at the boy for encroaching on his personal space, again. But Potter was either oblivious, or immune to his glare.

“I’m pretty sure they won’t send you off to Durmstrangs.” Potter said assuredly, his face clearing. “I mean- just look at you,” Potter said in a light tone, “With that pallor, you will be lost amidst all that snow in no time.”

Sirius snorted despite himself.

“I’m not that pale.” 

“Practically a vampire.” Potter smirked.

“Oh shut up. My skin is _porcelain_ \- the colour of aristocrats, you pleb!”

Potter snorted heartily at that.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the raven-haired boy, and considered whacking him with a pillow, but then decided he was too tired to move.

He fell back into his arrangement of soft pillows with a huff. “Like _hell_ I would ever set my foot in Durmstrangs!” he grumbled at the canopy .

Potter nodded. “No wix in their right mind will choose Durmstrangs over Hogwarts. Durmstrangs is crawling with dark magic! And freezing cold! While our Hogwarts is- I mean it’s _Hogwarts!_ The best school in all of Britain! The best school in the _whole wide world!”_

Sirius nodded in agreement to the sentiment at the canopy.

Lupin cleared his throat delicately.

“So, what have you decided to do?…become a Slytherin?” the boy asked softly.

_Slytherin…. Or risk getting sent off to Durmstrangs?_

When he remained silent, Potter turned his head towards him- his face troubled.

“It’d suck if you became one of the Vipers, mate….” But Potter met his gaze, eyes determined. “But if you _had to_ , we will make this work somehow. We are friends forever, we’ve sworn that. Nothing will change it;- not even a dodgy choice of house.” James Potter declared, hazel-eyes burning sincere.

A weight lifted off Sirius’ heart at his words, and he swiftly turned back to look at the canopy, avoiding letting his feelings show. "Then that's that." He murmured, but melancholy was rising in his heart. Even if Potter swore by it- and he didn't appear to be the type to give his word lightly- Gryffindors and Slytherins have never got along.

“...If it helps,” Lupin spoke up quietly, “I’ve read somewhere in _Hogwarts; A History_ that the decision of the Sorting Hat is final. Not even the Headmaster can change that.”

Sirius sat up at that, a spark of hope blooming in his chest. “What about the Board of Governors? Can they change it?"

Lupin frowned. “Not in my memory, no. I believe they only bother with administration, management and other important stuff.”

Potter sat up, looking between them hopefully, “What about getting transferred? Is there anything about that in there?”

“There _is_ something,” Lupin frowned.

Sirius felt his stomach drop.

“But I don’t recall exactly what. Allow me to check.” Lupin said, sliding out of his bed.

Sirius and Potter immediately scrambled out of the bed and approached Lupin, who was making his way towards his shelf.

“Ow! Why are the lights still off?” Potter cursed as he walked right into Lupin’s trunk in the dark.

“Pettigrew’s still asleep.” Lupin answered distractedly, perusing his shelf in the dark. 

He must _really_ know where his books were... But atleast he can _see_.

Sirius snorted as Potter walked into a bloody _bedpost_ next. "Your eyesight is despicable, Potter. _Lumos_.”

A pool of silvery glow spilled off the tip of his wand to the floor surrounding them.

“Ta, mate.” Potter grinned, straightening his glasses. The bright light glanced off his round spectacles.

Lupin pulled down a large, dog-eared, leather bound book from his shelf, and sat back on top of his sheets.

On the book’s cover, under its title 'Hogwarts; A History', was the school's crest and motto- embossed on tanned brown leather.

Potter plonked down beside Lupin without as much as a say so, as Lupin flicked through the pages feverishly. Sirius stood uncertainly near the bed, holding his wand aloft so that the wandlight illuminated the book.

Pettigrew continued snoring, undaunted by the presence of light.

“Here!” Lupin finally exclaimed, as he landed on a page titled ‘The Hogwarts Board of Governors.’

Throwing propriety to the wind, Sirius sat down on the other side of Lupin, and the three of them peered down together at the text on Lupin’s lap.

Lupin’s fingers skimmed down the text at a speed so remarkable, that Sirius himself found difficult to follow. And _he_ was proficient in speed reading since he was eight.

_Had he already byhearted the whole stupid book?_

It wasn’t even a proper subject, per se. Everyone knew people generally slept in the History of Magic class. Professor Binns was that boring, Cissa had told him.

Cissa’s cold glare came to his mind, and he decidedly turned his mind away from Cissa, and back to the text before him.

He felt a bit guilty for ditching his family in Slytherin. Father's approval, and being with Andy and Cissa here were the only things that made Slytherin the marginally better option between the Scylla and the Charybdis. 

But _this_ is where he wanted to be. Why can't they just let him _be?_??

And again he found his attention had drifted from the pages full of long-winded, trivial accounts and rules written in small crammed up paragraphs. Even the moving illustrations didn't hold his attention for long.

_Merlin, it was one boring book._

The Defense and Transfiguration texts were way cooler.

Finally Lupin spoke up, his voice full of quiet excitement. "Unless the student concerned has caused an act of violence that put a fellow wix’s life in danger, there is nothing here that says they have ever expelled or transferred an ordinary student.” Lupin stated. “Even in the above case it needs majority of the Board’s votes to pass the verdict.”

“...but that doesn’t mean they don’t have the power to.” Potter looked up at him anxiously, “Will your family take this matter to the Board?”

Sirius’ mind was already racing.

_If they weren’t allowed to change house… and if they needed Board’s votes to change schools…_

His eyes lit up. 

_That meant_ he _didn’t have to make a choice._

“Can’t be sure.” Sirius answered, quickly getting up, “But I need to send an owl.”

Potter and Lupin blinked at him as he quickly summoned his robe and shoes.

“What, you mean right now?” Lupin asked in surprise as he shrugged on his robe. “But it’s the middle of the night.”

“Can’t tardy now. I need to send this letter to Father at the earliest.” Sirius said, spelling his shoes to tie themselves.

“ _Neat_.” Potter admired his cool spellwork.

Sirius smirked proudly.

“But you can’t go off in the night. There’s a curfew!” Lupin protested, setting aside his book and standing up, unheeding of his awesome magic spells. “You will get caught! And then _expelled_! That’s precisely what we are trying to avoid here, remember?”

Sirius paused in rummaging his trunk for his stationaries, and impatiently tossed his hair out of his eyes. “I cannot wait till the morning! Father might have already contacted the Governors. _If not,_ this is my _only_ chance at convincing him not to. By morning, it could be too late!”

Lupin looked worried, and Potter ran a hand through his messy hair anxiously- making it stand up at very odd angles.

“So, whatever you say, I am still going.” Sirius stated firmly, brooking no arguments.

Lupin sighed, and began to pace around anxiously. "I am _not_ getting expelled on the first day at Hogwarts, no.” he muttered to himself.

Sirius looked at him exasperatedly. “ _Relax_ , Lupin. Why on earth would you get expelled? _I_ am the one going to the owlery at night defying curfew.”

“Oh, don’t be obtuse." Lupin retorted, pacing furiously. “It's not safe wandering around an unknown place in the middle of the night. So of course we are coming with you. Er-" Lupin winced and glanced at Potter.

Sirius looked at them in shock.

_Why would they?_

Lupin was looking at Potter sheepishly, "Er, I meant- um, I didn't mean to presume, but- ”

“Of course I am coming, mate.” Potter quickly assured with an easy grin, clapping Lupin good-naturedly on shoulder. “Can’t have him wandering around a magical castle and having all the fun by himself!” he winked at Sirius.

Sirius stared at them wordlessly for a few moments, and swallowed hard against the warm feelings rising in his chest. He knew in that moment that his decision was absolutely right.

_He was never going to part with this lot, whatever comes._

He averted his gaze back to his trunk, hiding his gratitude. A Black should _never_ loose his blank mask. 

“Well, if you fancy a midnight stroll, who am I to say no?... Ha!” he exclaimed as he finally spotted his box of stationaries. 

Potter smiled at him amusedly. "You have quite a funny way of saying thanks Black, but you're welcome."

Sirius huffed and ignored Potter. He unclasped the ebony box, and chose the best quality parchment, spell-check quill, and his emerald inkwell.

“But what if somebody sees us?” Lupin continued fretting, turning on his heel to stride back towards the desk.

Sirius opened his inkwell to craft a carefully worded letter, and tried to think up a solution to their problem.

But it was James Potter who came to the rescue- and quite promptly. Potter’s grin went all lopsided and smug, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous twinkle in the wandlight.

“What if they _can’t?”_ he asked.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos and comments!  
> That love keeps me inspired to keep chipping away at this lovely tale<3
> 
> You guys are awesome!  
> Have a great day!


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